the cold tiles my feet pad onto
when I take a midnight ****
have more emotions that I.
because this,
this nighttime of my youth,
seems to **** every drop of color
I once retained.
now I’m left with nothing
but cracked ****** lips
and purple bruises.
I scratched away my own essence
and am nothing but a wandering,
vague, and lonely void.
quiet and dull,
numb and painless.
it’s better to feel nothing
than to feel the heavy dark pain
that comes with my mind.