Suicide on the Inside…

Like a soldier to my death, voices of insomnia in my head,

Marching with ice cold breath, sounds of the beast, flesh it wants to collect,

Courage, bravery, left right left! I'm still alive, I'm still a poetic mess,

I hide away, on this earth I'm just a guest, it doesn't mean I love any less.

Homicide on the outside,

Suicide on the inside,

Skin is crawling,

Peace is calling,

Empty of feelings,

Fear of breathing,

Suicide on the inside!

A weakened confession, still, words of pain and misery,

Behind these eyes, is a darkened mind with bruised visionary,

An empty bottle, an empty page, an empty chair for a lost soul to sit upon,

Slumped and tired wishing for the strength, the power, and the voice of song.

Silenced streets fill the cracks of society, I'm living in a world where I feel banality,

My thoughts become versatile, but my ideas die in the search for imortality,

I rise above, I stare down to my lifeless corpse,

Levitating in my own shadow, showing no remorse.

Homicide on the outside,

Suicide on the inside,

Skin is crawling,

Peace is calling,

Empty of feelings,

Fear of breathing,

Suicide on the inside!

As my beating heart races to be found, I'm drowning in self doubt, buried underground,

As my white eyes become dark, painted by a hollow soul,

As my last tear echoes the hurt I feel, down my cheek it trickles alone,

So,

As I stand here, face like a ghost, do I start this suicide note?