My Dear Diary

Dear diary,
I spell by words out to you,
I know things are not going as well as they should.
It just it hurts so much inside,
And it takes too much strength to fight me all the others,
The ones how said they cared and cried upon my shoulder when they were in need,
Now that it is my turn they seem to be nothing more than a dream,

Why do they have to hurt me,
It's not like they cannot see,
It is there hands not mine that pulled the razor blade against my wrist.
Only come up to me the next day and expect and hug and a kiss.
Sure the poems make to mellow the taunting voice,
But I growing weak, I'm falling to my knees.
And I won't make my sister the hand I need.
She is to young, to smart, to bright for me to suck her into my own despair and out of her world.

My dad is to distance but it is not him how made that happen,
I will not give my feelings to someone who only uses and abuses what he has,
My mother is one only a sliver of her remains,
But it seems that will as well surly fade.
Friends do not deserve to worry about me,
And I cannot stand the judgment in their eyes when they look at me.
So now who do I turn to well no one of course.

So it is not completely their fault that I have made me choice.
But here I sit living life like a chore,
One that only wants more and more,
If one small moment could come around,
Than maybe things would get better but while everyone et better I sit here in fear,
I can sense that the end is drawing near.
Water clouds out the sounds.

While air implants them into my brain,
I long to sit out and feel the rain,
So it is cool and tasty and sweet,
And than after the happiness it has no twist of lies or discreet.
So I have poured my self to you,
With every color that no one knew,
All the happy and sadness that I hope will never be passed on to you.