deepundergroundpoetry.com

Heavy Cost

The voices so dark, the light so far away. I can't hear anything else over them. No matter how I try, escape comes at a heavy cost.
                                        
“Your life is rotting. Pick up the tools of death. Three times a try, and success you had. But death is a tricky thing. Three times denied.”
                                              
“End it, life will keep me talking. You’ve never been worth it. My voice is in your hands, our hands. The Fourth will work, I promise...”
                    
Should I give in to the spoken words of the evil within me? Will they win this day and ruin all that I’ve worked for in life? Escape means death...
Written by Monkeymaham2
Published
Author's Note
I suffer from D.I.D., and other mental disorders as well as heavy depression.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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