Too Many People Don't Care What You Have To Say

the sun was very bright.
and i've never liked the color yellow.

they keep calling me brave.
but i am not brave,

stop calling me brave because i am just a coward.







i wasn't suicidal but i remember not caring if i died.
i remember thinking about death a lot and breathing it into my cold lungs every morning.
i remember thinking that maybe if i walked a little slower across the street then maybe i would get hit by a car and i wouldn't have to consciously decide my end.







that is not brave.



hell became a usual place to pour out my sorry soul
but thats just the danger of being a good listener.

and, please, don't tell me i look like hell if you've never been.