I wanna take a leap.
I wanna down a drink.
I wanna run away from this sickness that tortures me.
I'm wallowing in the screams.
Not aloud to cry.
So I make up with a sharp knife.
Grabbing my last hope of relief.
I take my pen.
I tear it apart 'til there's nothing left but the spring.
Letting, letting  the blood flow hiding it with a white sheet.
Staining my shirt sleeve a crimson red.