Its 1:00 am on a Sunday morning,
I'm counting down the hours left till school like I'm counting down the hours i have left until my execution.
I'm on death row and not because i have committed a crime but because school feels like an execution.
The students are the executioners and my words are my crimes.
My mistakes are my trails and my fail is my death.
Everyday is my execution, as if I'm living in Hell.
I repeat each day as i go through the layers.
Their words are the knives, their laughs are the flames.
The flames are burning my skin and making me choke out the smoke in my lungs.
Everyday is an execution, their eyes are like darts, shooting into my already empty heart.
I'm on death row for my life but I'm the one who found myself too guilty to live.
My mind is burdened by the sins my thoughts have caused.
Dreaming of better places is too big a crime to back out of.
Execution is something i deserve because i have committed the greatest crime of all.
So i allow their flames and their darts.
I allow them to stab knives in my back.
I am counting down the days till school, until I find myself guilty of lying and plan my own execution.