Push and pull — tug of war with my limbs.

Russian Roulette with my heart —

Scratch, scratch, blood drying tears —

pouring pain increasing.

My thoughts corroding my imagination —

the nail through the wrist, the razor cuts deep.

My depression is a cry —

a cry of fear, a cry for help.

Just one pick-me-up message

isn’t gonna do it this time.

The blunt, the pipe, the needle meet my skin.

Preparing, overbearing, making excuses —

believing the lies, forsaken wounds laugh it off.

Who cares it’s just a phase —

God I hope it’s just a phase.

I can’t let go — why can’t I let go.

Please God let me let it go.

Let me end the pain, sorrow,

guilt, terror, the loneliness.

The horrors of yesterday and

the nightmares of tomorrow —

it’s sickening my stomach.

Screw everybody —

I’ve stopped crying and started smiling.

My smiles are an illusion, a magic trick.

You’re the audience, cheering me on, I guess…

The show is sold-out.

And by sold-out, I mean, shut down.

I’ve stopped selling tickets —

I’ve just stopped.

I wanna get better, but I don’t know how.

Why is the hardest thing to do in life, is survive?

-Bryce Willey

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