I'm 23 now.
and the weight of the world is too much to bear
I want for so much, so little the air is in my lungs
never enough to breathe
nor to give life to this heart once aflame.
again, I will admit, it is withered.
dead and cold.

I'm so tired.
every plan foiled.
every stitch come unravelled,
leaving me open and naked
and easy to ****.
I am the prey -
a victim of my own life.
a victim of my own mind -
my own, selfish heart
forever screaming
forever crying out
dying on the inside.

and the broken home I came from
I built
and and I burnt it down
myself.

now, my love is homeless.

and though I wish
and beg
and pray
I cannot keep the monsters at bay.