a few tender souls
once intertwined with me
have been shred away
by my hand
my spine is crooked over
from holding the weight
of this heavy heart
my neck sore from
supporting this brain filled
to the brim with regret
that I became the things
I looked on with a tinge of disgust
when I was eighteen
my skin feels unclean
despite countless showers
I scour and scrub but
the grimeyness persists
how did this...
how did this...

happen?