it's my trembling hands
and my watery eyes
it's the way that i
can't fall asleep at night
it's how i constantly need to be held
it's how much i cried when you left
it's my locked door
it's how i have nothing left
it's the razor blades
that make the most precise of lines
some of which are on my thighs
it's how every time i think of a train
i think of how comfy the tracks must be
it's my whispers to myself
"what the **** is happening"
and it's all the pills too.
enough to end my life,
only to wake up and find myself
still alive
it's my pens which are out of ink
from all the letters i wrote you
"i'm gonna **** myself, im sorry
i love you"