The Weekend

This weekend I wanted to kill myself

It’s not the usual thing to do
But I was sick and tired like the flu
I was a Crayola in the box, feeling blue
Thinking: Everyone wants a piece of the pie or two

This weekend I wanted to kill myself

Because I couldn’t seem to get anything right
My mind was a battlefield in a constant fight
People’s comments were like birds that took flight
And made nests in my head, pulling me away from the light
Making me blind to everything but the negativity in sight

This weekend I wanted to kill myself

Because I couldn’t find one person to hear me out
I was a steaming teapot with nowhere to point my spout
Part of me considered a chemical blackout
Thinking a bottle of pills would do the trick, no doubt
Except I did, doubt, because I didn’t want to be a dropout
And so I went on to writing to hideout

This weekend I wanted to kill myself

Everyone seemed to have a complaint
Not good enough, you never have time, what’s wrong with your brain?
All their comments and teases were a runaway train
Aimed straight at my heart, call cardio I’ve got chest pain
It doesn’t matter what I do, my efforts are in vain
I’m about to fold, this poker face I can’t maintain
My vision is cloudy, I forecast a sobbing rain
And yet I feel, in all of this I’m the one to blame

This weekend I wanted to kill myself

Yea, it’s true
I know it’s not the usual thing for one to do
Good news is, the signal was weak and the message didn’t go through
So I’m here now, writing to you
We never know what a person is going through
Or what storms are stirring inside just by plain view
Maybe an act of your kindness is long overdue
Maybe that’s all they need to undo
Because we’ve got one life to live, no redos
This weekend I wrote this, and now I’m sharing with you.
What was your weekend like, what did you do?

OneWritersHeart