The Day I Died

by E.B. Black

I was stuck in a living hell

Because I was always crying and just didn’t want it to hurt anymore.

Because I was tired of always feeling like such a burden to everyone I cared about.

This second horrible place was the one that I called home.

“It’s like there’s less color in everything. The sky is darker. The world is dimmer. Things that used to be fun, like singing, just make me tired now. I’ve been trying so hard for so long now that I deserve to rest. It’s selfish for you to ask me to withstand it when I can barely get out of bed most days.”

I know that it is silence that kills people, silence that rips people apart,