destroyer of myself.
My blood has become purgatory,
my lips a voiceless cry.
Is this hell?

She strode into hell
and dug her bleeding fingers
into its ash covered soil.

When you look at me
my voice runs away
stealing my breath

Grip the cord
Pull it taut
Wave at the passerby

They're all looking at you
Pull it taut
Wave

Don't forget to **** in
Breathing doesn't matter
Pull it taut

I have never felt right,
writing this poem.
They keep saying
that I'm "strong".
I don't feel strong.
I feel...

like ripping off my skin
wouldn't be enough
that breaking my hands
couldn't help

I feel lost.
The lion has left me.

The Nor'easter in my mind won't settle
The inside of my scalp is wind-burned
Every step is won in a never ending battle
Every breath stolen like a meter of ground

I bury myself a trench
trying to escape the clutches of Zephyrus
All four gods circle around me in a typhoon of noise
Eos's sons, vultures in my head