No Hope

From "This Sober Life"

The word suicide is twined in barbed wire
wrapped tight around my brain.
Every time I try and peel it off
I'm cut a little closer to insane.

In everything something can go wrong,
for me most times it will.
It’s hard to find a reason to stay,
if I found one that’s when I'd be killed.

I'm tired of walking around with this
pocket full of razor blades.
Tired of yelling up to God,
"Let this be my last day!"

I lay here in this bed and wait
for another day to end.
Lay here, stuck in this life
banging my head against the wall again.

I try to close my eyes real tight
and wish my mind away,
but the silence whispers, "suicide"
So I negotiate a date.

"Tomorrow if I feel the same
I'll end it all by noon."
Yesterday I said the same
but I just couldn't do it.

"You can't even kill yourself."
My mind laughs at my heart.
Am I actually taunting myself?
I think I'm falling apart.

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