These Past Few Days

These past few days
have come and gone,
almost like the words to your favorite song.
I had it all,
I felt ten feet tall,
like maybe, just maybe, this time I wouldn't fall,
fall back down into the darkness below,
where the inky blackness waits to comsume me whole.
But here I am at last
as the seconds, minutes, hours fly slowly past.
I hold my breath and count to ten,
sometimes wishing for the end;
the end of pain, the end of the dreary rain, the end to my sorrow,
That never seems to get better tomorrow, or the next day, or even the day after that.
I given it all I have had.
I'm sorry if I made you sad or mad,
heck most of you are probably glad.
I'm sorry I couldn't have been the person you'd wished I'd be.
I could, in the end, only be me.
Maybe one day at the end of the road you will see,
that this was the only way I knew how to leave,
to make it go away,
Maybe you could have shown me the better way to escape,
but my question as of late is did you even really care?
Or was I simply just there
not loved, not wanted,
just an empty pit of despair.
These past few days have come and gone,
As family and friends sing their mourning songs.
Dressed in black they play along,
and pretend they hadn't seen the signs all along.
Call me out if you think I'm wrong.
Oh wait,
my bad,
You can't call out the dead girl,
for her fate is already made
and she laid to rest.


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