I want to kill myself. I think about it everyday, I want to rot in hell. I want to suffer, in death, and bleed. My own blood. I want to stick a knife in my belly like a pig and feel good about it.
But sometimes, I want the nice and easy way out. I want to swallow all my grammy's pills. Her pain killers. She has bottles of the stuff. Tranquilizers, and I know that if I swallow about thirty of them, I'm six feet deep.
But before I kill myself, I want to kill some others, so I can bring them all down.
Those cheating boys, and those fake friends. The slut who took him away, and the other slut, and the other slut. I want to slaughter them all, and torture them, and I'll feel so happy, that it will be a joy to take my life.
I want to kill, so badly, murder, and then suicide.
Weapon of choice for myself, drugs.
No comments:
Post a Comment