My skin is made of paper.
My bones are shards of glass.
My blood is shifting in my skin.
Staining the edges of once white youth.
Once unmarred slates.

Now I am a shamble.
My structure cracked.
My spirit broken.

My lungs are filled with dust.
My heart is pumping nothing.

If I have no will,
please let me be.

Don't make me stay.
Please don't make me.

I don't want this anymore.