FicWad

Anchors away for the dead man's end,
No one on whom you can depend,
Fading away from cold reality,
With a blade, a lighter and broken CD,
There's a bag of weed in you back left pocket,
There are broken memories hidden in a rusty locket,
There are track marks running up your arms,
There's sweat stripping from your palms,
There are pills, blades and the noose you tied,
There are a thousand reasons to say goodbye,
With a line snorted and another line drawn,
You scrawl a note as your skin is torn,
You smile as you swallow, you smile wearing rope,
And you smile as your heart stops, for misery and hope.