“Are you Suicidal?”

I’ve been asked this question a couple of times I shrug it off most times I never really stopped to ask myself they misunderstood my poems I concluded.

But then on this windy evening with my emotions dancing to the rhythm of the weather,  I do ask myself. Are you suicidal?

Well I’m definitely not jumping off the bridge anytime soon but I’ll drown my soul if I could wash out my memories because I feel everything just might hurt less. I wish I could wake up with Amnesia life would maybe feel less fucked up but then I can’t kill one part of myself without killing the other.

Winter darkness Amplified grief exalted depression glorified melancholy. Mental scars to commemorate my experience Pain; a familiar feeling of nostalgia.

I feel like none should see this piece it feels more like a conversation with my inner self than a poem. But then who’s my inner self? The one I intend to kill. My inner self torments and filters away whatsoever joy that might be brewing. If I do this then, get rid of my inner self. I do so in self-defense is it then suicide?

Winds stopped blowing, Emotions stopped dancing So I guessed I’ll have to sleep on that question. call a lawyer, I’ll probably be needing one.

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