Imprisoned

by Rock Chick Loves The Fic

This is a really old poem I wrote when I went through severe depression about three years ago, its quite triggering to be honest, I don't know why Im publishing it, but I'll catch on later...

This is a real old poem I wrote about 2 - 3 years ago when I went through a really horrible stage of depression,

I wanted to kill myself, and I tried several times, but somebody was keeping me from it, but who? I still don't know, but what I do

know is that, if you believe in yourself, you can get through the pain. Trust me. Well I know its weird, but try to enjoy

reading it if its possible...

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Imprisoned by Rock Chick Loves The Fic - AKA Jadzya Buckley.

I'm not good enough, I never am. I never will be. So why do I even try?

Blood stained mirror shards littered the floor, I had nothing. Nothing at all.

The door remained locked, and the window barred up.

I was some kind of monster to everybody, but why?

I was a danger to myself, and those who surround the.

Why don't people understand? Why don't they like me?

Cupid won't visit, not once, not never.

I'm away from physical contact. I am locked in shackles,

and chains, for my own safety.

The pain is horrible, I can't scream out, or yell, it's

pointless. I am not strong, nor am I a fighter,

everything doesn't work out, not ever.

Nobody will ever hold me,

or feel my pain and comfort me, Iv'e never felt that safety,

and I probably never will.

No food. No water. No Mother. No Father.

No Safety. No Contact. No Friends. No Family.

I am unknown. I don't know who I am.

Neither does anybody else.

I am inhuman, I am a monster.

I am a danger. I am an abnormal creation.

I am insecure. I am very much hurt.

Im depressed, blood stains in places tell the rest.

The red shard hits the floor an shatters.

And so does my heart, both in sync.

Both fragile, much like the glass.

The wound spills with the red substance.

That warm, cold-redded, bloody substance.

That kept me alive and breathing all these years.

I didn't need it, not now, not never.

Why am I still here? I ask myself.

As the thought lingered. I stood up,

positioning myself for my next move.

My thick rope, secured and ready.

No need to say goodbye, no one will notice.

Don't worry, everything will get better when i'm with Mum and Dad.

I crained my neck over the loop, then loosely,

Letting my body flop, yanking the rope.

The loud click of my neck. That last painful noise.

That last painful feeling. That last breath I never took.

Those goodbyes I never said. Those things I never did.

All gone, All Over. No more worries.

Lights out.

Blacks Out.