Cowards who cry

Found bloodied and unconscious,
Or still screaming and crying,
By parent’s or friend’s who stand in shock,
Causing trauma through your ignorance.
So desperate for life you would mock death.
Shallow cut’s through flesh or hinged nooses which slip,
Lying of overdose with half the pill’s down the sink,
But you kept the bottle with it’s choreographed lid,
Laid out beside your hand,
As if you fell on the spot in an instant.
Tell me what pill’s done that?
Did you froth at the mouth or simply spew more shit.
Was the blade left in view with a faint trail of blood.
Are you really that needy? was this but a test to see if their love was real?
Attention once craved now required, your weak
If you really hated this life death would be easy.
Where were you found? in your room? In the bath? It’s pathetic.
Did you wait until they were in to start the act?
All good actor’s need an audience, did you expect applause?
Unwilling human fail-safe’s banging at the door,
Don’t answer, stay still and you shan't be ignored.
You make me feel sick, you deserve to die,
Sit there plotting false suicide’s, with a way to be found you have a will to survive.
You could have walked through the woods or along the railway line.
Came across that spot in the hill’s which no one could find.
Staring at the clouds as they roll by.
Knowing you’re all alone you can finally die,
Unless you wish to be saved like the coward’s who cry.