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i'm a mess inside and out i'm searching for serendipity but all i have left is drenched emotions and crumpled up papers on my floor filled with ink blots and scribbles my eyes burn from tears my heart aches i shake as i pour myself another drink of whatever is left in the cabinet i down it like the 2 tablespoons of medicine my mother used to make me take when my stomach hurt but right now, everything hurts they say everyone needs to feel pain it reminds us we're alive but if being alive is the equivalent to feeling the sharp knife in my heart over and over again i might as well be dead

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