Crying myself to sleep has become routine.
Warm, salty tears stream down my face more and more
while finding happiness is an endless journey when it comes down to what happiness even means to me.
I feel no purpose.
I feel no success in where I stand and I don't like my own reflection.
I am not sure how much longer I have before emptiness swallows me whole
and the taste of blood is bitter from biting my tongue for so long.
I am crying for myself,
For I am once, again, engulfed by darkness and can no longner stand on my bruised & beaten spirit.
I cannot lean on you,
I cannot lean on me because my worthless legs have given out from under me.
So,
I just let the warm salty tears fall on my open wounds in hope that one day they will heal.