Old Friend

-This poem was not written to upset or cause offence to anyone, neither was it meant to harm or act as a trigger. Please feel free to use the information below if know someone who may benefit from it’s use.

http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html

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Dear Death,

Today I thought of you. I miss you, but we shouldn’t be together, people keep us apart for a reason. They tell me I have a purpose, I just need to find it. I think my purpose is to meet you. Let’s face it we were all born to die. Maybe I was born to do nothing more but make a friend that is shunned by most others. Spoken about in metaphors and rarely given their proper title. Please stay in touch.

Depressed.
Dear Death,

I’ve been told to stop writing to you, that I’ve formed an unhealthy obsession to our friendship. But it wouldn’t be a friendship if I didn’t value it, would it? They took away the blade you gave me, but it wasn’t their gift to take, don’t worry I’ll replace it. Keep writing.

Depressed.
Dear Death,

They tell me that I can’t be depressed, as I would feel numb if I were, but all I want to do is stop being a burden to everyone. Why do I feel ashamed to be desired by anyone? Feel my flesh crawl at the thought of their hands on my skin no matter how much I ache for that contact. I feel you have the answers, lets meet. Soon.

Depressed.
P.S. I’m on my way.

 

Little Ginge x

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