i just write and i write and i write
i don't even know where the words come from;
it's like theyre bleeding from my fingertips
and the ink is the blood
i wrote 4 pages today about falling in love
another 6 about how much i wish youd just come back
and i scribbled in the margins how i wish i could get away
there were sentences abut my insignificance
and paragraphs about how i feel disconnected
my hands hurt so ******* much
but how am i to stop when its the only way to stop the hurt