Pain

Warning: This Poem is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

The pain I know
would kill you.
The pain I know is real.
A dad whose never
there.
A mother who
never cares.
And the one
that cuts?
That's me.

The pain I feel
inside.
It would kill the
world.
It would fester
within,
until you died.
Like me.
You would walk
and talk.
You would eat
and drink.
You would look fine
on the outside.
But on the inside,
you would be empty.
Like me.

The pain I know
is real.
I feel it all the
time.
I search for ways
to drown it out.
I pop the pills,
inhale the powder,
smoke the blunt,
drink the vodka
and cut my
wrists.
But the pain
always remains.

The pain I know
is real.
I stop fighting
and give in.
I take my knife
and cut so far
my hand will no
longer move.
I watch my blood
flow forth.
And it fades to black.

The pain I know
is real.

It killed me.