Late-Night-Ramblings

What do you do when you're broken?
When you can feel your soul rotting from the inside?
How do you keep from making that last move?
From ending the misery imposed by your pathetic life?
These questions may seem harsh to some,
But others know all to well what I mean.
They've layed awake at night with a sugar sweet voice whispering in their ear,
Speaking of the unspeakable in a voice you can't help but hear.
They demand your attention.
They demand your emotions escape.
And once the flood doors finally burst,
And all your pain finally pours out,
They demand your body act upon their commands.
That you swallow that bottle of pills,
Killing the rotton excuse for a soul inside.
Or push that beautiful blade deeper,
Letting the ugliness seeps out in beautiful red rivers down your arm.
What do you do, when an angelic voice tells you to commit devilish acts?
When you can't fight the demands any longer?
How do you make yourself keep living,
When you've already died inside?