Believe me

Would you believe me if I said,

I don’t want to die, I’m not ready for death?

When all that escapes from my lips is a sigh,

passive whispers of suicide drifting by.

Would you believe me if I told you instead,

I want to live, though my mind feels dead?

I want to keep going, to breathe, to mend,

but my body’s exhausted, my soul at its end.

You tell me, “Stop hurting, stop feeling this way,”

as if sadness is simple and fades in a day.

My body aches, I sleep for days,

trapped in an endless looping maze.

I’m breaking inside, though I’m silent outside,

I’m living but dying, my hope tries to hide.

Yet somewhere within, there’s a flicker of light,

a whisper that says, “Please keep up the fight.”

-dmnd