The Note...

The old me will not make an appearance in this poem .

Subsequently removed from society . This is for all the suicidal that thinks letting depression can also be your personality .

Deep wounded by the knife cuts stabbed by the training of thoughts about depression taking over your body like a lemon being squeezed like a useless material possession , let the tears be your confession , let the sound of my voice be your harmonic progression , don’t let cutting yourself be a indirect expression . As a feather from your guardian angel break down as a cold tear falls down everytime you pick up that knife , nowadays staying happy 24/7 is the way now to a professional life .

You Will Heal Young Soul . As you learn from the touch from that man that choke from that man that slap from that man that unconvincing voice from that man , your birth giver ignoring you while the bloody tears from your soft chocolate covered face wanting her to be your repairman hoping she understand .

Every time you open your mouth a dark scream rolls off the taste buds off your tongue but not making any type of sound but the facial expression of help me . with nobody here to save you is the last thought your trying to have but if you tell somebody scared they may laugh . hoping for all was a i love you , of all these feelings and your actions you try to dispose of . this is not the way to find your way to betterness trust me . being suicidal for years being experienced with forgive and forgetfulness . just talk that’s all you have to do to be let free . this is my recovery from a suicidal note to you from me .