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Literature Text
Shoot me, Kill me, Take my Soul.
For I have no use of it. I'm just stuck here, in this Undenying Hell they call life.
Around and Around these feelings go.
Why lead me to suffer so much? Just end it all, I'll feel no pain, For I am already numb. But thinking of you, brought my thoughts straight.
So please, Love me, Hold me, I need that feeling.
As I lay dying. Explain that you love me more than anything.
I think my feelings are going to come back again...... just dont leave me be.
For I have no use of it. I'm just stuck here, in this Undenying Hell they call life.
Around and Around these feelings go.
Why lead me to suffer so much? Just end it all, I'll feel no pain, For I am already numb. But thinking of you, brought my thoughts straight.
So please, Love me, Hold me, I need that feeling.
As I lay dying. Explain that you love me more than anything.
I think my feelings are going to come back again...... just dont leave me be.
Literature
Suicide
You called me up,
crying,
down the phone,
you said you'd taken some pills,
and didn't want, to die alone.
Is your life,
that messed up,
you had to take steps,
to make it stop?
I cried to you,
to call 999,
you said you couldn't listen,
to voices other than mine.
your voice sounded weak,
fighting for breath,
the silence was noticeable
as if i was deaf.
The streets of heaven,
are already full tonight,
full of souls,
souls of angels,
souls like yours,
souls of people,
whose life ended too soon.
Your death,
has brought nothing but pain,
upon this world.
Literature
Depression
Lay down your right to be human.
Put on a dazzling smile so that no one can see your pain.
You hide it all so well, but underneath your shirt you can still feel the scars.
No one knows what it is like to be you.
Your smile is but one in a billion,
A mask that you wear to ward off the questions.
Your scars are your war paint,
But this is a losing battle.
You are sent to face the demons all alone, though they will never leave your side.
So keep that pretty smile steady,
And don't let one tear drop from those stormy eyes.
Put on your war paint and go out into the world, where your smile makes you just like them.
Literature
Suicide
Slash my wrists
Slit my throat
Feeling the drain of blood
Feeling empty
Days long past passing before my eyes
Have no feeling now
I see nothing but black
No fire, no bright light
No nothing
Just Nothing
Nothing exists after death
Noting not you, and not me
Nothing
Than I awake
With the blade still in my hand
Untouched by my blood
I put it down and walked into the black abyss
Called life.
Suggested Collections
I just got yelled at for not feeding my dog.
........ Why am I such a selfish bitch?
Im not good enough for anything or anyone anymore.
I try so hard to obey my parents but I just get yelled at.
What have I ever done to them?
I love that title.
Depression is the Suicide
........ Why am I such a selfish bitch?
Im not good enough for anything or anyone anymore.
I try so hard to obey my parents but I just get yelled at.
What have I ever done to them?
I love that title.
Depression is the Suicide
© 2011 - 2024 nejitenrenamy
Comments52
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music is my suicide though
hehehhehehehhe
youtu.be/aRzO-CVhYLA
ì̸̻̱̙͝ ̶̤̓̓̀͌͋̌͝͠j̵͙̦͎͍͉̜̟̙͙͓͔͚̣͌̈̍̎̇̀̓̍̊͊̔̕͜͜o̷͖̝͖̙͎̪̝͒̆̓̀̈́̎k̸̫̪̯͕͓͙̤͓̦̍͐̐̚͘e̴͙͌͊̈́̃̇̂̀͒̔̏̈͝͝͠ ̴̡̼̩͓̦̱̯̝̹̳̖̭̈́͆͜ẗ̴̞̰̠̺̯́̈́̇͠o̵̬͉̞͈̗̗̹̲̼̎ ̴̮̮̱̈́͛̈́́̿̂͑̂͐͆h̸̛͚̭̣̰̣̣̘͔̬̗̙͋͒́͑̾͑̉͌̚͜ͅỉ̶̢̧͈͍͖̮͙̉͜d̷̢͍̰̜͙̳̟̪͊̐̿̾̐͐̉̈̃̂͌͋̈́̂͘ͅe̷̢̢̢͔̣̯͔͕̺̙͚̗̟̝͂̄̔͐͜͠ ̷̨̩͈̰̗͈̅̐̿̂̔̈́̕͝m̶̫͇̂͋̀̐͒͠ŷ̸͚̰̞̤̯̯͍̙̫̙͎̈́̈́͋͊̎̉͘͝ ̵̧̨̛͎͚̳̮̹̫̮̹̹̳̄̿̽́̀̽̅͊̈́̇ͅc̵̨͎͚̯̯͕͇̣̮͈̩̓͛̂́̈́̌ͅŗ̶̛̛̼̣̘͔̘͕͙͛̒͋͊͐̊͒̓̀͋̀͒i̷̳̙̤̲̼̔̈́̇̉̓̅̒͒̎̈̎̎̿p̵̨͖̤̪̫͚̟̪̹̦͉̹͙͂p̸̧̹͈͎̤͑̊͒̾̐͒̇͌͝ļ̵̣̺̻̳͇̫̠̳͎͕̯̆̄͋̈̊͊̎ͅỉ̴͓̭̞̰͖̰̾̓͐̈́̈̐͌͘n̸͙̳̙̣̈́͗̑̿̾̇̈́̀͝͝g̵̡̛͚̤̩͎̝̠̭̺͙̼͓̍͆̆̀̌͑̍̾̊̓̂̓̋͜͠ ̷̤̘͉͈̪̻̱̺̫̺͚̃̓̓̈́͂̍̈́͜ͅͅͅḑ̵̧̭͉̪̖͇̖͚̙͔̻̳̲̅̈͗̀̂̽̈́͜è̵̛̺̝̮̉͒̑͋̽̂̆̑̊̀̊̿̽p̴̨̢̲̱̼͓̱̼̼̗͕̗̞̥͆̑̅͆̈͒͒̉́̍̈́͠͝ͅŕ̸̢̦͇̼̩̝͈̦͕̥̲̬̦̒̂̐̂̾͐̀͆̊̔͆̿ͅȩ̶̢̢̛̜̤͖̯͙̳̩́͒͆͑͋̄̓̍̈́̑͗͌ş̸̭̹̦̫͈̰̙͉͍͂̍͛̂̍̾s̸̛͙͓̯̦̩̤̬͍̥̖̝̣̹̺̏̏̔̏͋̅͜į̴͓̝̥̭͕̪̲̹͈͚̟̼͖͗͗̀̉̔͑̋̊̽͜͠͠͝͝͠ǫ̶̛͛̾͆̆̓́̃̅̇̾̕̚͝n̶̤͇̻̩͔͍̾͒̃͌̒̀́̎
hehehhehehehhe
youtu.be/aRzO-CVhYLA
ì̸̻̱̙͝ ̶̤̓̓̀͌͋̌͝͠j̵͙̦͎͍͉̜̟̙͙͓͔͚̣͌̈̍̎̇̀̓̍̊͊̔̕͜͜o̷͖̝͖̙͎̪̝͒̆̓̀̈́̎k̸̫̪̯͕͓͙̤͓̦̍͐̐̚͘e̴͙͌͊̈́̃̇̂̀͒̔̏̈͝͝͠ ̴̡̼̩͓̦̱̯̝̹̳̖̭̈́͆͜ẗ̴̞̰̠̺̯́̈́̇͠o̵̬͉̞͈̗̗̹̲̼̎ ̴̮̮̱̈́͛̈́́̿̂͑̂͐͆h̸̛͚̭̣̰̣̣̘͔̬̗̙͋͒́͑̾͑̉͌̚͜ͅỉ̶̢̧͈͍͖̮͙̉͜d̷̢͍̰̜͙̳̟̪͊̐̿̾̐͐̉̈̃̂͌͋̈́̂͘ͅe̷̢̢̢͔̣̯͔͕̺̙͚̗̟̝͂̄̔͐͜͠ ̷̨̩͈̰̗͈̅̐̿̂̔̈́̕͝m̶̫͇̂͋̀̐͒͠ŷ̸͚̰̞̤̯̯͍̙̫̙͎̈́̈́͋͊̎̉͘͝ ̵̧̨̛͎͚̳̮̹̫̮̹̹̳̄̿̽́̀̽̅͊̈́̇ͅc̵̨͎͚̯̯͕͇̣̮͈̩̓͛̂́̈́̌ͅŗ̶̛̛̼̣̘͔̘͕͙͛̒͋͊͐̊͒̓̀͋̀͒i̷̳̙̤̲̼̔̈́̇̉̓̅̒͒̎̈̎̎̿p̵̨͖̤̪̫͚̟̪̹̦͉̹͙͂p̸̧̹͈͎̤͑̊͒̾̐͒̇͌͝ļ̵̣̺̻̳͇̫̠̳͎͕̯̆̄͋̈̊͊̎ͅỉ̴͓̭̞̰͖̰̾̓͐̈́̈̐͌͘n̸͙̳̙̣̈́͗̑̿̾̇̈́̀͝͝g̵̡̛͚̤̩͎̝̠̭̺͙̼͓̍͆̆̀̌͑̍̾̊̓̂̓̋͜͠ ̷̤̘͉͈̪̻̱̺̫̺͚̃̓̓̈́͂̍̈́͜ͅͅͅḑ̵̧̭͉̪̖͇̖͚̙͔̻̳̲̅̈͗̀̂̽̈́͜è̵̛̺̝̮̉͒̑͋̽̂̆̑̊̀̊̿̽p̴̨̢̲̱̼͓̱̼̼̗͕̗̞̥͆̑̅͆̈͒͒̉́̍̈́͠͝ͅŕ̸̢̦͇̼̩̝͈̦͕̥̲̬̦̒̂̐̂̾͐̀͆̊̔͆̿ͅȩ̶̢̢̛̜̤͖̯͙̳̩́͒͆͑͋̄̓̍̈́̑͗͌ş̸̭̹̦̫͈̰̙͉͍͂̍͛̂̍̾s̸̛͙͓̯̦̩̤̬͍̥̖̝̣̹̺̏̏̔̏͋̅͜į̴͓̝̥̭͕̪̲̹͈͚̟̼͖͗͗̀̉̔͑̋̊̽͜͠͠͝͝͠ǫ̶̛͛̾͆̆̓́̃̅̇̾̕̚͝n̶̤͇̻̩͔͍̾͒̃͌̒̀́̎