I felt sick, so I cut out my stomach.
Hoping that the nauseous feeling would cease.
I felt like crying, so I cut out my eyes.
Because showing emotion just doesn't suffice.
I felt like speaking, so I slit my throat.
Because choking on blood is better than choking on word *****.
I felt my heart; the strings inside, breaking.
So I let them rip, and tare a hole in my chest.
And it wasn't the lack of being able to eat, or see, or breathe and speak that even came close to killing me.
Feeling killed me.
That which feeds your entirety, when broken, has the power to end lives.