There are killers and the self-killers.
Is there something different about them?
Nothing much really, they both kill.
Left to rot until someone finds their body's.
For those who don't know, it's more than common . . .
Me, myself have seen all too common.
To do that is a crime to yourself and others!
Live and deal with it, it's better than killing.
Here no one will listen, it's because I am a 'kid'.
Anymore, and I will shatter!
Because I myself suffer from my job, the ever present faces of the dead!
I have been around dead bodies since I was five.
Am I going crazy or am I numb around living bodies, but thrive around dead ones?
Slowly I am dying, as my time is coming.
Killing time until my death is out of the option, I will serve until I drop dead.
The time is coming, for they are coming!
One will kill themselves now, but I will wait, and wait and wait.
I wait until I die, because I have the rest of my life to wait for my death.
Love will never fix the holes in me as I lay on the ground dying, my blood staining the ground forever red.
As much as it hurts, I will miss HER, but will she miss me, the real me?
Well she waits for me, ********, she will only know ***** had died today, not ********.
As well as everyone else, but only a few will know that ******** had died today!
Myself will never be known as ******** on my marker but as ***** . . .
And it would be read as *****.
Everyone will read it as *****, not as my real name ********, ******** will be gone forever.
Around the world people will wonder about ********'s disappearance, maybe I will be found later?
Me as me, and not as *****, but as ********, but *** might not be alive by then.
There might not be a chance when *** finds out that ******** was *****.
Is there chance their beloved ******** will die today, and that ***** will also 'die'?
No the world will never know, not know, not until my corpse has rotted away.
Need to ignore for now, the pain of never coming back to *** hurts more than the bullets!
For now I shall rest, I feel so tired.
Me who is me, ******** or *****, the one who will be marked in the stone?
To be forgotten from everyone, which is the me to be so?
Live is not an option for me, for both of the 'me' . . .
I can now never tell *** how I feel about her, she will never know I had loved her!
Have I done any wrong, what did I do to deserve this?
Caused by the tears that were fallen by my white lies . . .
Much more, it has to be more, I love ***, I want to tell her, to see her face when I die!
Pain, the pain is too much, the pain of loneness, I could care less about physical pain.
To God; why do you have to do this me? I want to laugh and hold *** in my arms in a field of flowers!
Everyone; did you know, Shinichi Kudo has died, and there was never a Conan Edogawa?
WILL ANYONE KNOW THE TRUTH ABOUT ME?