It has the silence full of screams, Something it says that i am done The hidden secrets behind its Crump is, A war that was never won.
It has alot behind its words, A whole world, A hole life. Something that it thought would be kind, Alas! It turned out to be a knife.
It has some unsaid tears in it, Who knows, wet or dry. It takes a person's soul with it, The one that didn't want to cry
Crumpled or folded inside a diary, The ink holds its every breath. It says, I didn't do it on purpose, Life was just forced to death.
It weeps and shouts in dark, It struggles to survive. Says, how can i even breadth now. The one who wrote me always wanted to feel alive.
It has alot of love in it, Stored for the next birth. In a hope that the other stop would be better than this, A less judgemental, A lot worth.
Taking all the worries and sorrows. Taking all the deepest pain. The irony behind these suicide letter is 'Ah! I want to live again, I want to live again.'
