I am the type of person, To bleed through ink, Swiping both hands from side to side, Smudging my feelings into white page, Touching the chunky blots to feel, My tangled thoughts, In their entirety.
I want be alive. I want to bear the weight, Of a thousand emotions on my rough shoulders, And if that isnβt enough, I donβt know what I will do, Anythingβ Anything to feel like Iβm not dead.