The other day
A friend told me
He wanted to die,
With a crack
In his voice
And a tear in his eye.

I’d known that
He wasn’t okay
For a while,
But it wasn’t like him
To stop
Faking a smile.

In that moment
I knew
What a broken heart was
And my brain
Scrambles for answers
When I know
There are none.
I’ve given up rhyming-
Because life isn’t poetry.
And pain isn’t art.
They say
Depression’s like drowning
And maybe it is-
I don’t think
Breathing is meant
To hurt this much.

-M.S. (via coffee-crinkled-pages)

(via tori12598)



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