Do you know how many people I've talked out of suicide?
Do you know how many times I've thought of taking my own life?
Have you any idea where my scars are?
Can you look me in the eye and tell me that I'm worthless, after knowing everything that's happened, and walk away forever?
Can you tell me that I'm physcotic and call me names, knowing what I go home to?
Have you seen me cry because of the things that I see, hear, feel, and think every day?
Can you, a child of God, tell me that my life was a mistake and mock my intentions?
Can you tell me that my life isn't as bad as other people's, that I shouldn't feel the way I do because there are people who have it worse?
Can you tell me that my faith is useless because yours is broken?