I am

the breakfast I didn’t eat

day old scars littering my arms

the burning peroxide running down the drain

water not yet tinged pink by blood

I am

the chips eaten at 2 AM

pills swallowed dry

scraping their way down my throat

contemplating a silent suicide

I am

the hand tremors

so bad I can hardly write

unfortunate side affect of the meds

keeping the demons at bay

I am

the last fare well

apologizing until my throat bleeds

for the slip ups and people I failed

scattered over my skin over and over again

I

am

human

but

I

don’t

really

want

to

live