laying in a hospital bed.
gown drawn to my toes.
a small ****** box tv stuffed away in the corner.
all sick and pale.
tissues and chocolate pudding flooding the side table.
i have tubes running through my veins.
******* the life out of me,
isn’t exactly pretty, is it?

would you sit by my bed?
would you sit for hours on end playing endless card games?
or would you do what everyone else does?
run away.
freaked out, scared.
running away from the problem.
from the thing that causes them stress.
causes them to spiral,
to break down.
i am that thing.
so with all this weighing on you,
like bricks on your shoulders,
would you visit me?