Sick in the heart.
Perpetual darkness pulses through my bruised up veins.
Blood work seems to take forever.

Heathens cast the first stone and burn me at the stake.
Like the filthy witch I've become.

But in vain, I've been incinerating in silence.
Since you left me here with these vampires.
Hungry for the essence of my spirit.

When you've been sick for so long.
That it feels more normal than anything.
A high functioning, hot mess.
As my mind runs in circles, on repeat.
Like a cursed pendulum.
Tomorrow's dissapointments are none of today's business.