There's a thirst
To sicken, to be full
To never feel the need to be understood.
A thirst unquenced to be human undamaged.
To be needed but indestructible
To be present only when summoned.
This thirst sometimes aching
To be fulfilled to be terminated
All failing ethereality.
My wrists crack as I'm lifting
Myself off of the floor for the seventh time.
I become part of the decor...yeah I'm fine.
There's 9 days left until I've fulfilled my sentence.
What glory bestowed on my head!
A thirst to be undead, a thirst to remain stuck and never dare to step ahead.
A thirst untouched by water.
I'm left parched so merciless.