how has it happened
that a book I once loved to read
I can read no more

every time I turn the page
brings back the same memories,
the same feelings,
and longing once more

those thoughts of suicide
that constantly wracked my brain,
my want to press blade to skin
and see the red liquid flowing

I can relate all too well
with at least one of the characters,
the other two bringing on new urges,
the need for a gun
or to walk over a cliff,
the urge to take more drugs
or drink myself into a frenzy

one of the main reasons I ever read this book
is because of how well I could relate
and now it seems that I won't be able

with every passing second,
so involved in the characters
and their lives,
I want to reach out and grab
the nearest blade I can find
to glide it across my already scarred
skin

I keep thinking that I've overcome my demons
but you never truly get over them
they come back to haunt you at the worst of times