literature

Bleed

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Literature Text

If I really try,
I can still picture
Your face...
The way you looked
When you died...

Your blood on my hands,
Tears on my face,
I watched as you died,
Horrified as you screamed,
And my heart broke
As you cried...

I didn't know what else to do,
Except wait until help came...
But none did...
Instead your heartbeat grew faint,
Weak and small,
Just like my faith in God.

I lost it that day,
Didn't know who I was,
Didn't know if God existed...
But I knew one thing:
I hated my life,
And I wanted it to end.
I begged for it to be over.

So I went home that night,
Took the sharpest blade
I could find,
And destroyed my skin,
Blood everywhere,
But it wasn't enough...

No physical pain could hide the
Emotional torment I felt
With you being gone...

And still to this day,
Every time I bleed,
I feel the same sting,
And still to this day,
I can see your face...
I wrote this recently for my best friend Jenny. She was (and still is) my best friend since we were 3. She died when I was 13. I still miss her every single day. I can't go a day without thinking of her... I love you sis... I promised you I'd never let you go or forget you, and I never did. This is for you, Jenny-girl. :heart:
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