A beautiful deadly thing,
Unfeared when unfelt,
Life is hard, death is easy,
Maybe too hard is the reason I'll quit,
Maybe too hard is the reason I'll fit,
Into that wooden box.
Pine, maybe oak.
Hard to say,
Death by sea, or wrist.
Gone, done over by a broken heart,
Submission to a bloody fate.
No longer will I be a slave to this hate,
No longer will I feel this pain.
If my life were to end few would cry,
It hurts, hurts to be the person I wish to be,
The best I could ever be,
Its not good enough obviously,
Suicide, is it a friend or enemy?
Maybe death is at my bedside.
Waiting for me to make my decision.
Waiting for a heart to change.
My submission is now to live unscorned.
My submission is to live.
I can no longer care for everyone, everywhere.
Myself and no one else.
If I try to satisfy, then my heart will just get broke and I'll break down and cry.
My life was made for me to die.
I think I should help speed up the process,
This is my submission.