Breathe in, breathe out, then die.
That’s what I’ve done for the past 4,271,344 seconds, and I’m exhausted.
I don’t want to breathe anymore.
I don’t want to do anything anymore.
I’m not even scared of dying, I am so so scared of living though.
I wrote them a letter about who I am.
Who I am is not what they want.
Maybe it’s my fault for lying in the letter, I told them I was happy while holding back tears.
I wonder when my lies will stop being enough for people to stop checking on me.
Give them a smile, tell them “I’m okay”, and they’ll leave you to pick yourself apart.
I’m so tired.
And my ribs feel so heavy.
But don’t worry.
I’m okay.
I’ll just breathe in,
Breathe out.
And die.
A ****** poem for ****** feelings