This is just something I did late at night when I couldn't sleep. I think
it's pretty obvious who it's meant to be written by. But in case you can't
work it out it's meant to be by Rogue. It's not a letter or a message to
anyone. Just what she might feel like sometimes, a lot of people do but not
the same extent.
~#~#~
Suicide: Self-murder, to take your own life.
But what is life? Is life merely to exist or should is it more? Some say love is the essence of life. Others say free will to do what you want and be what you want. I don't know, maybe it is, and that is why my life is so empty. If so, then I am denied life. So will my death still be suicide?
Some would say I have a lot to live for, iam still young. But they need to feel what its like. To see how others treat me, and be forbidden to feel.
Free will to be myself, I just get abuse. I don't mind the shouts and crowds and threats so much. It's the looks that hurt, and the fact that there abuse is true.
Iam nothing to them, dirt, a bug, something nasty that must be gotton rid of. Something that doesn't deserve air, something to stamp out. All because iam different, because of something I don't want, can't help. Because of the way I was born. Iam something they can't deal with, something they can't control or understand. To them iam not a person, iam a thing to them. I see it on there faces, in there eyes. To all iam untouchable and unreachable.
'No one wants you'
'No one loves you'
What would they do if everything you touch could die. Stroking a cat or dog, holding a baby, hugging my friend, even with gloves it's a awful risk. Not ever being able to touch an animal of have my skin come in contact with another's is painful.
They don't know how right there shouts are.
Everything is like a torture, just opening my eyes and looking around brings more pain then they can ever give me with there abuse. People holding hands, hugging and kissing. Just being able to touch another living thing, it seems so impossible that someone should be forbidden that.
I live and see but must not touch. Forever alone. How can you get close to someone when the only way to show how you feel, is with simple words. 'I love you' only goes so far with out actions to prove it. And it hurts to say no, to some one you love. It's better to shy away and hurt only yourself. Iam meant to be this way, alone, with friends that must and do step back, so I don't hurt them.
I draw the pain with red gashes, the silver blade is the only thing that touches my poison skin. And although it turns mental pain to physical, which is easily forgotten, but it leaves me powerless and still full of sadness.
Cuts may heal, but scars remain.
Pain may leave, but sorrow persists.
Death would stop it, the pain would leave. But although I would not be there to see it or feel it. Sorrow will always be there. With those fue how care.
From it there is no escape, death or not its here to stay. And I want enhance it for others, just to end my own.
For now the blade will stay on my arms and legs to rid me of some pain at least. But my wrists and neck it will not touch with its scars and blood. For as refreshing as it is, that unnatural red stream across untouchable skin. As much as an escape and end it is. It will leave its deadly traits behind in grief, which I would bring by leaving.
~#~#~
That's it, not much but its how teens sometimes feel. Please R & R
Luna & Drue xXx
~#~#~
Suicide: Self-murder, to take your own life.
But what is life? Is life merely to exist or should is it more? Some say love is the essence of life. Others say free will to do what you want and be what you want. I don't know, maybe it is, and that is why my life is so empty. If so, then I am denied life. So will my death still be suicide?
Some would say I have a lot to live for, iam still young. But they need to feel what its like. To see how others treat me, and be forbidden to feel.
Free will to be myself, I just get abuse. I don't mind the shouts and crowds and threats so much. It's the looks that hurt, and the fact that there abuse is true.
Iam nothing to them, dirt, a bug, something nasty that must be gotton rid of. Something that doesn't deserve air, something to stamp out. All because iam different, because of something I don't want, can't help. Because of the way I was born. Iam something they can't deal with, something they can't control or understand. To them iam not a person, iam a thing to them. I see it on there faces, in there eyes. To all iam untouchable and unreachable.
'No one wants you'
'No one loves you'
What would they do if everything you touch could die. Stroking a cat or dog, holding a baby, hugging my friend, even with gloves it's a awful risk. Not ever being able to touch an animal of have my skin come in contact with another's is painful.
They don't know how right there shouts are.
Everything is like a torture, just opening my eyes and looking around brings more pain then they can ever give me with there abuse. People holding hands, hugging and kissing. Just being able to touch another living thing, it seems so impossible that someone should be forbidden that.
I live and see but must not touch. Forever alone. How can you get close to someone when the only way to show how you feel, is with simple words. 'I love you' only goes so far with out actions to prove it. And it hurts to say no, to some one you love. It's better to shy away and hurt only yourself. Iam meant to be this way, alone, with friends that must and do step back, so I don't hurt them.
I draw the pain with red gashes, the silver blade is the only thing that touches my poison skin. And although it turns mental pain to physical, which is easily forgotten, but it leaves me powerless and still full of sadness.
Cuts may heal, but scars remain.
Pain may leave, but sorrow persists.
Death would stop it, the pain would leave. But although I would not be there to see it or feel it. Sorrow will always be there. With those fue how care.
From it there is no escape, death or not its here to stay. And I want enhance it for others, just to end my own.
For now the blade will stay on my arms and legs to rid me of some pain at least. But my wrists and neck it will not touch with its scars and blood. For as refreshing as it is, that unnatural red stream across untouchable skin. As much as an escape and end it is. It will leave its deadly traits behind in grief, which I would bring by leaving.
~#~#~
That's it, not much but its how teens sometimes feel. Please R & R
Luna & Drue xXx
