These Feelings

These feelings I hold back, These feelings that stab my back. Am a boy with a beautiful smile. And a deranged mind. I twist in my sleep. I sleep through the twists of my depraved dreams. I smile at pain, And kiss the hot coal. Suicide is not a destination, It's a journey. I walk upon these thorns, As I suffocate on the smell of roses. I play the guitar, But there's razors instead of strings. My thoughts dance, As the demons in my head sing along. I can tell the sharpest knife, Even with my eyes closed. The silence in my chest, Has the day I died attached to it. How will it be suicide? If you killed me first? Elliepoet