this time last year
we were sitting in a cluttered classroom
talking about feelings
and laughing about nothing.
this time last year
I was outside the walls of my bedroom
talking to people and conquering fears
but now
I stay inside of my bedroom
I write poems and listen to morbid music
and I don't talk to anyone,
not even my own family.
now...
I am wasting away in my toxic sadness
drawing pictures of bleeding hearts
and trying to find the girl
that I was from the start.
-i.s.