I'm not one to reach to any
These lonely nights, so many.
I do so much to numb Myself
Feelings in an unseen stealth.
I'm not one to talk about Me
Not My thoughts or how I feel.
I wouldn't want to burden You
Nor even give You a clue.
My thoughts are My own to bare
Not that anyone would care.
My life is a downward spiral
And I'm not in any denial.
I've made it farther than I thought
Experienced more than I aught.
I'm not one to be found in a group
I'm a fallen and lone, rotting Fruit.
Descending into My own Mind
Death and Madness is all You'll find.
I'm not one to ask for any assistance
Like My suicidal tendencies for instance.
I've come to accept My decay
And adapt to this dismay.
I'm not one to assimilate
For all I know is My Hate.
I'm not one to know better
But I'll explain that in a letter.
I am one to disappear here and there
I need to, I'm not asking you to care.
I am one to drink Myself into the Black
Wishing, hoping to not make it back.
Yearning to see Death in waiting
One day, I hope He stops evading.
I am one to finally have given in
To My own Demons, yes They win.