Type for Help

Shallow eulogies wrote with a mass of emoticons, and no emotion
False love offered up on a screen to try and preserve a life.
Only true feelings presented are those of the keys beneath your fingers as you type.
Another internet threat of suicide from another teen too scared to try,
So we tell them they're great, but we can't say why.
And if they ask for a reason to live, we throw out generic lies,
Because we don't really know them.
We'll say the same stuff every time but none of it applies to their own night fantasies,
We find out it wasn't serious if they buy it, status update: still surviving, I love you all.
Next time I see this shit I'll join in just to write
Goodbye kid
I don't expect a reply.
You'll have to stream you're death to haunt me,
I won't be calling for an encore, so make this show good
Go out with a gasp,
Round of applause for the attention whore who likes to type for help,
Probably watching the screen hoping to prove me wrong about that.
But you haven't even tried yet
The sort to stand at the edge of a cliff while your shadow clings to the nearest tree
Waiting for suicide prevention team to find you and ask if you're OK
Only to tell them the same old story, that you're still here, and didn't want to be found.
Walking home thinking you were close,
Somehow surprised to find yourself back in bed,
Happy to cry in the tip tap of your written silence,
And checking a comment box for comfort.