My skin is made of paper.
My bones are shards of glass.
My blood is shifting in my skin.
Staining the edges of once white youth.
Once unmarred slates.
Now I am a shamble.
My structure cracked.
My spirit broken.
My lungs are filled with dust.
My heart is pumping nothing.
If I have no will,
please let me be.
Don't make me stay.
Please don't make me.
I don't want this anymore.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC
My skin is made of paper.
My bones are shards of glass.
My blood is shifting in my skin.
Staining the edges of once white youth.
Once unmarred slates.
Now I am a shamble.
My structure cracked.
My spirit broken.
My lungs are filled with dust.
My heart is pumping nothing.
If I have no will,
please let me be.
Don't make me stay.
Please don't make me.
I don't want this anymore.
