Plunging, like the stone in water, hastening pace,  no matter the current. 
Better put, my world, spiraling down in this abyss of pain called life.
I climb, I can see the top of this hole I'm in, but yet I'll never reach the surface.
I can't get out.
I can't Escape.
People come along and tell me theres a way to make it all go away and get better.
I smirk and say, "Death?"
They answer "Yes.." as I notice that these people are yet mere reflections of myself.
I can't get out
I can't escape.
Going insane, can't count the days, can't remember faces nor names.
Trying to get out to escape the fucking pain.
PULL back that razor slow! let that fucking hammer pull back and snap!
Pouring wrists? leaking head? But the pain still lingers.
Every one knows the killer, but won't point fingers.
Written in blood, on a sheet's empty space:
I've gotten out.
I've found my escape.
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just a poem....kind of floetry...put anger and hatred and resentment for life for last stanza...gets the feel across.

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