thinking back to all the times i've cried myself to sleep
i find that i can never remember the reasons why.
could've been the blood running down my pale cheeks,
or the purple galaxies that were drawn all over my chest;
the stitches ripping at the seams of my mind.

it's not like it even matters.
it's for the best that the memories i have fit together,
like a mismatched puzzle.
summoning my past doesn't have any effect either
i've blocked everything,
as deep as the marianna trench,
for the sole reason,
to keep everything hidden,
even from myself.