Euology

Trigger warning: suicide and suicidal ideation
I wrote this when I was struggling.
I do not currently feel like this.

Forgive me for asking,
But how exactly,
Do I stay alive?

Only a body,
Never a mind.

If I bleed,
Is it sanguine?

It's calling me,
Again,
The knife.

How many years,
Before I am my mom?
Is it written on my wrist?
Perhaps my palm?

How did it happen,
And how many times?
My body remembers,
How can I survive?

Free speech,
Am I right?

How many house?
How many second?
How much of me,
Is made up of fragments?

They live on my chest,
A hoard of these elephants.
Pulling me apart,
I'm torn into ligaments.

A noose as a necklace,
It's making me breathless.
Really,
It's poetic,
Or am I just restless?

Seventy-six thousand...
Listened...
In...

When will it stop?
When will it end?

My heart is broken,
I wear it on my sleeve.
I tried to tell you,
But you won't believe.

I tried to do it,
But instead I just seized.
I told them what happened,
But I guess I'm just mean.

Will it be epi,
Or just atropine?
They'll try to treat it,
The asystole.

Maybe it'll even,
Be my colleagues.

"How unfortunate."
"Troubled was she."

Then they'll move on,
I'm just a memory.

It's just a eulogy,
It's just for me.
No one will read it,
It will just be.

You know what I mean?

Of course you don't,
Or you'd intervene.

Haha,
Yeah,
Don't mind my rambling.

Isn't that what you said?
When I was breaking?

I'm out of sight.
Maybe out of mind.

I...
Am...
Not...
Alive...