Maybe This Time

The words they say flood to my head,
A razor in my hand at the edge of my bed.
Maybe this time it will actually work,
I'm haunted by my failed suicide's smirk.
This isn't the way I should behave,
But my name is constantly called by the grave.
My father was a preacher, I never called him daddy.
Since it's towards the end, I admit I've been bratty.
My mother brought me happiness, but I'm not happy enough.
I'm not one of those people who clearly say life is tough.
My pain has been rotting, like my soon to be hanging corpse.
I'm crushed to death, suffocated my depression's force.
I'm sorry I kept the smile on my face,
I'm sorry my life has been a waste.
I just wish someone would stop me,
And at least attempt to make me free.
The words they say flood to my head,
Maybe, just maybe, I am dead.