I am so full of thought And so full of fear And full of dread All I want is to make this stop. I don’t care if I have something worth giving to the world. Why should I have to give it? Why should I have to give anything more? Maybe it’s selfish Maybe it is And maybe Surely I am tired of caring And rethinking And backing away from that damn ledge. Maybe I am tired of giving myself away in pieces. I want to keep what I have left And chose how I dispose of it. This idealistic fervor This sensitivity And if you could hear me I say them both as if they were dirty Because they feel dirty Dirty silly little words. These things have brought me pain And made me unfit for the solidity of whatever constitutes A normal life. Can’t I keep something for myself? It seems that even if I wanted to do this thing This living thing I don’t have the will left to save myself. Somedays Like this day I wish I could either make that final stroke Or run down the stairs Or pick up the phone And say to someone “Help” “I know I seem better but I’m not I just learned what not to say.” I wish someone would take this choice out of my hands I wish someone would knock on that door Hold back my arms Force a pill down my throat And drag me away. I am so tired of trying to function Trying to laugh like it’s a chore Trying not to think about the things I’m not supposed to think about. I guess I’m just wishing someone could take me Out of my own hands.