Not Okay

(Another poem from when I was younger.)

Hands shaking,
wrists stinging,
tears and blood mix together,
with their droplets falling in the sink.
Not ashamed,
but not proud,
of who I am,
or what I do.
No one cares,
I'm not okay,
I can't believe I lived today,
or any day.
No one talks to me,
few out of billions will miss me,
if I left,
I'd just fade.
Call me a hypocrite,
but I know you're not okay,
but I care along with the billions,
if you left I'd go with you.
Whoever you are reading this,
I'm sorry,
hold on,
the more blind to the truth you are,
the more idiots hurt you.