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Cherry juice drips down my chin; sticky fingers graze against a cheek, my hand will not stop shaking anymore. Juice boxes are scattered around my room. The sun plays on my twin sized mattress that I can't seem to get out of. I assume it's because I have two left feet; or maybe I haven't been taught how to walk. Melted crayons on my wall I tried painting over. Six pairs of socks still don't keep me warm. My diary remains full of colorful words. Being devoid of color is replaced with washable markers, non-toxic glue, and extra fine glitter. The bubblegum in my mouth is melting. I think I used too much glow in the dark glue, because I can't pick them up or feel them, despite seeing them right in front of me. Having crying fits over a pack of goldfish until I fall into deep slumber, drooling on my pillow. I'm terrified of the dark; I cannot stop screaming, But it's not the dark where you turn off the light, no. It's the dark inside my own mind - the loneliness and being stuck in my brain's room that keeps me up too long. I can't sing or play with an instrument anymore because my voice is too shaky and my hands, my hands are covered in this cherry juice.
0
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 5:56 PM UTC
childhood
Cherry juice drips down my chin; sticky fingers graze against a cheek, my hand will not stop shaking anymore. Juice boxes are scattered around my room. The sun plays on my twin sized mattress that I can't seem to get out of. I assume it's because I have two left feet; or maybe I haven't been taught how to walk. Melted crayons on my wall I tried painting over. Six pairs of socks still don't keep me warm. My diary remains full of colorful words. Being devoid of color is replaced with washable markers, non-toxic glue, and extra fine glitter. The bubblegum in my mouth is melting. I think I used too much glow in the dark glue, because I can't pick them up or feel them, despite seeing them right in front of me. Having crying fits over a pack of goldfish until I fall into deep slumber, drooling on my pillow. I'm terrified of the dark; I cannot stop screaming, But it's not the dark where you turn off the light, no. It's the dark inside my own mind - the loneliness and being stuck in my brain's room that keeps me up too long. I can't sing or play with an instrument anymore because my voice is too shaky and my hands, my hands are covered in this cherry juice.
Snorgaborgasnorg
Written by
17/Between my words
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 5:56 PM UTC
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