Untitled suicide attempt number one thousand.

My life is not dandelions,
or sunshine kissing
the roots of my hair.
It's a struggle between
suicide attempts,
and waiting for just
one
more
day.

It's hope, fleeting from
the palms of my hands.
And lungs, burning
begging me to stop.
And trust me, this is not
another sad poem of mine.
I am done.

But if life is never fair,
then God must be.
It's the only way
I won't get my heart
to stop beating.