How can I be close

To both sides of the string?

They're thousands of miles apart,

Half of me is in the dark.

I'm fading fast and hard

And I don't know anyone around

In this place,

Not a single familiar face

In this place,

My mind is making images

Of disastrous things;

Nooses, knives, and guns.

Boy, doesn't that sound like fun?

And yet the other half

Is praising this day

With joy, love, and hope,

But where is my hope

For this world in a good place

For when I see my face

I hope that is decays

And gets shot away.

Today is my day,

Not to find the ways

Of hurting myself,

But for helping those in need,

The last of which is me.