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Apr 2017
here i am sifting through images in my head again,
and i’m still not really sure which ones are from now
and which ones are from then.

all i know is that time has lost meaning,
and i don’t have the energy to fight.
i still feel you on top of me most nights.
i’m sorry.

i’m so sorry,
and i don’t really know for what,
i guess i was praying those words
would make you stop?

but those prayers went unanswered
i wasn’t strong enough to push you off.
and that was the night that i lost god.

as a kid i used to pray before going to bed,
but ever since god left me, i’ve been writing
and rewriting suicide notes in my head.

its ironic because they sound much like a prayer
god, please take me home i don’t want to be here.
Alex Berthelot
Written by
Alex Berthelot  Atlanta
(Atlanta)   
694
     Lior Gavra, Jane and Kai
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