He begged for help in the darkness and despair,
Groped blindly for a savior but no one was there.
The pressure built, forcing him further down,
Isolated, and lost there was no one around.
Till the day he played the knife down his arm,
No one thought that he would self harm
The freshly fallen snow turning red
It was too late for help now, he was already dead.

#dark-poetry, #death, #depression, #poems, #poetry, #suicide