If my skin is meant to encase all my insides
Why does it always feel like they are ready to burst out?
And in contrast why does it feel like my bones will suddenly melt out of their rigidness?

That my ears hear, but only in echoes, like someone yelling from far above a well
That my eyes cast shadows when nothing is there
And my hands tremble even past the mistakes

I’m not sure there will ever be a time, that i will feel ok
In retrospect i don’t think there ever was a time when i felt ok
And because of it i will always be attracted to the nothingness of death

Knowing that one day i will succumb to the darkness