Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

1-800-SUICIDE, how may I assist you?

A stomach full of butterflies
Waiting to swarm from my mouth
As my heart thuds loudly, sitting
In a room full of crazies trying
Not to acknowledge the fear
That turns my stomach upside
Down and makes my fingers cold,
And jittery. My head fills with
Worry as I feel as though
My life were to be locked away.
I'm sitting where doom has sat

The paranoia flees away and
The talk has smeared across
The walls, the only thing
Left is disappointment and
The consummation that the
Suicide hotline was a sour move
On a black day will seer my
Mind and I feel like a simpleton.
My fingers twitch in anger,
My head will ache in rage
And I will feel as though I can't be saved...

October 27, 2007

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1-800-SUICIDE, how may I assist you?

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