7 inches
Six feet high with a noose around my neck.
7 inches down doesn’t seem like a threat.
Manic episodes got me laying in bed.
Blacked out room to pretend I’m dead.
Impulses done by the thoughts in my head.
Anger raging on as I start to bend.
All these emotions made ten fold.
By the white little powder that will make me cold.
I don’t take drugs, the drugs take me.
To places in this world you’ll never see.
Can’t come down from the binge I’m in.
I won’t make it three hours before it wins.
Forget finding me when traumas to great.
Who am I to break down the barrier my minds put in place.
A .22 for a single bill.
I promise I’ll mention you in my will.
Why did I make it longer than you.
When more people cared about what you do.
Money going out before it comes in.
Getting in debt just fly again.
Staying up late, not sleeping at all.
Don’t want to burden you with the call.
Six hours now or seven minutes then.
I’m leaving this world it’s just a matter of when.
Copyright © Rebecca Fenton | Year Posted 2025
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