Please kill me

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Please kill me
Hit me with a car,
drug me,
or shot me.
Anything will do, just kill me
Stab me in the heart
as deep as you can
Or rip it out,
and try to put it back again.
Remove my useless brain
get him out of my mind,
delete the pictures,
forget the memories
Please kill me
Hit me with a car,
drug me,
or shot me.
Anything will do, just kill me
Tie me to a chair
and hit me in the face
Beat me up,
till I stop breathing
Torture me in any way
cut me in the wrist
leave me on the floor,
in pain, bleeding to death
Please kill me
Hit me with a car,
drug me,
or shot me.
Anything will do, just kill me

... det var da vældig positivt...
få dig en hobby...

måske er digte hans/hendes hobby... sure løg!
til opretter:
flot skrevet!!
har du overvejet at bruge det som en sangtekst?
og du lyder som om du har brug for én at tale med.
er der nogen i nærheden af dig som du føler dig fortrolig med??
knus

hej😃flot syntes jeg, men jeg tror ikke han har det så slemt/du
det er bare et digt ligesom alle mine!
PS. jeg hedder Super digtern. se mine digte tak :):)
Vild med dit "digt"
Det rimer ikke helt.😉😉

tak skal du have(: det er heller ikke meningen det skal rime.
nej så slemt har jeg det heller ikke

mange tak(: men jeg kan sgu ikke rigtig synge såå...

Unlike the poem above, the words i give you, are real desires.
They will not be written in a fancy way, as this "lovely" poem was.
But atleast, my plea, is real.
For yours i have brought deciet, in an attempt to bring pleasure, i gave a young person what he needed, a person that loved him, and i gained his love as an award for my kindness. Three years passed, an our love for eachother only grew, larger and larger, for every minute that passed by in our existance. In the end, it was too much for my weak heart. I knew the deciet, the lies, but i also knew the truth. The only truth i saw; Was our love for each other, how he adorned my way of reacting, responsing to his words, how i would tell, and deeply mean how much i in truth loved him. Ofcourse he told this back, and everytime i felt my heart was torn asunder, chewed on by hungry wolves, stomped on with the shoe of a footballer. And then putted back in, for me to feel the pain. After exactly three years, i choose the "right" thing, i told him the truth, that i were not the woman of his dreams, that i un truth, deeply desired to be, but i was not. (I even offered him a sex change, since, gayness it not my style, but being a woman in his arm, i would gladly give everything for that) Before you all judge me, i'd like to add; This was far from a pedofile act, i am only 3 years older than he, we "met" when he were 16, and i 19. After i told him, he was ofcourse, (Atleast i think) broken. But he quickly recovered it seems, he still act's a friend to me, after i begged him not to stop talking to me. He even tell me "You made me an emotional Iron-man" Personally, this three year event made me an emotional whreck. Now that i know i can never again tell him how much i feel about him, that i never again will be able to be told how much he likes me. (He however, did tell me that he still long, for what i promiced, this only crush my heart even more) Every night, i wheep, i wheep untill tears are no more, for untill then, i cannot sleep. In my heart break i have forsaken the school, and education, and thus my means of living. If i am unlucky enough, to enter into the new year, it will be as a homeless bum, begging for the food you probably will throw in the trash, walking my path untill i a find a way where i can end this missery myself, without the fact that i am chicken is a problem. I guess... this sorta IS a goodbuy note, it will stay anonemous though... Ìf you even read this far, you probably doubt why i do not write such a note to my family... And here is my answer; They pity me enough, and i trouble them enough. It is best, for all, to think what happent, is an accident, rather than a deathwish. And a deathwish, is exactly what it is. Me, and my "friend" used to have an "act". He was the reaper, i, a mere soul he was to reap, but i gave him understanding, as i did in truth. Our act was a abstruce mix of reality. The words said, were truth, through characters, we liked. I became the Reapers, Angel of Sin. And like so many angels before me, i fell. I torment myself by staying near him, just to gain the little happyness i can gain; That he is happy - No matter what. So i tell you all, in a none fancy poem, please, kill ME!
I am sorry if i entangled you to this text, and made you read it through, sorry to have wasted minutes of life, with my egoistic missery. But i need to tell someone, and who is better to tell, then one you will never see? Do not pity me, for i deserve it not, do not feel sorry for me, i feel sorry enough. The only thing you can do, if you wished to help me - Is killing me.