I cried aloud, a single word filled my head like it had never done before.
breathing felt like touching a open wound, like the one I had sewn into myself.
My head was filled with thoughts that anyone sane would burn
like the scrapbooks of someone dead, because once you're gone who needs your thoughts? I had wondered what they would do if they heard that that day shook me so?
Would they reconsider saying those hurtful things? Would they do it more to try to **** me even more than my spirit has already allowed? I was cold to the touch and even someone I loved didn't notice everyone asked if I was okay but didn't stick around for a truthful answer because sometimes the truth is too unbearable to take... sometimes I write about a boy, or a dream, today I write how i feel how I felt and how I am torn from what felt like a rose turned to a thorn, by a word burned into my skin to a crisp.
but after all my thoughts consumed me until I could not write, I wept until I ran out of tears, I sweat from the nightmares that consumed my sleep I once desperately wanted.
a dream the haunted me even tonight to the point writing doesn't help me I still feel like like a paper cut that no one sees till blood is spilled like the blood pouring from my sinks in my dreams like the slits in my wrist and the pills in my diet and the steel from a bullet that i taste when i wake... I wish I had time for the voices l held inside for so long.