Morbidity

I thought I was a goner, dead for sure

I heard them talk when they thought I couldn’t

All they’d ever wanted from me was more

All those secrets they kept from me I shouldn’t

 

Care like do, but I can’t help myself

These emotions inside me, so fierce

But I can’t help but feel bad about myself

Even as I point the dagger and feel the pierce

 

I can barely feel the pain, just a stab

But I can see the blood begin to seep

And I slowly begin to feel the jab

Darkness over takes as I start to weep

 

I fall to the floor and I can feel my

Heart stop and I know I’m about to die

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741