*mis demonios parecen a cicatrices
con el sabor del suicidio*
and they watch
they wait
from the dark corners
the creases
of my mind
and they laugh
as I drown
in this stale air
they step on my chest
crushing my brittle ribcage
caving in my empty lungs
they laugh
as I drown
in this salty ocean
one small drop at a time
as my skin tightens
my cheeks stained grey
my eyes bloodshot
blinded
they laugh
as I drown
in giving up
giving in
to the biggest demon of them all
the beautiful sister of depression
anxiety
mis demonios parecen a cicatrices
con el sabor del suicidio
and they run back into the shadows
chased by a box of kleenex
and her scratchy sweater
leaving my face raw
but finally
dry
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 7:20 PM UTC
*mis demonios parecen a cicatrices
con el sabor del suicidio*
and they watch
they wait
from the dark corners
the creases
of my mind
and they laugh
as I drown
in this stale air
they step on my chest
crushing my brittle ribcage
caving in my empty lungs
they laugh
as I drown
in this salty ocean
one small drop at a time
as my skin tightens
my cheeks stained grey
my eyes bloodshot
blinded
they laugh
as I drown
in giving up
giving in
to the biggest demon of them all
the beautiful sister of depression
anxiety
mis demonios parecen a cicatrices
con el sabor del suicidio
and they run back into the shadows
chased by a box of kleenex
and her scratchy sweater
leaving my face raw
but finally
dry
i think i just accidentally told my friend i was suicidal
was, am. is there even a difference anymore?
not to add to my anxiety or anything
but it's adding to my anxiety
can i start today over
Request permission to use this poem