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Jul 2015
Guilt slits slowly my throat. As I gurgle anxiety, it watches.

"Just **** me!" I imploringly screech.

"I can't," it retorts coldly.

"What do you mean you can't?! End this agony! Stab my throat! Pierce my heart. Let me bleed and let me die!"

Guilt stared then, calmly, with a sigh,
"You're the one holding the knife."
**** this guilt.
Or **** me with it.
ji
Written by
ji  did i ever matter?
(did i ever matter?)   
783
   Creep and tragedies
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