Look at me
do I really look like I want to die?
Yes, you do.
You keep tearing yourself apart like a hound,
hurting, hunting
for feelings that aren’t yours.
Your eyes, bloodshot.
Your skin, torn.
Your mind wandering,
searching for space to breathe.
I look into your pools of red,
praying I can heal you,
fix you,
mend this limping body of yours.
But I know my limits.
I know I can’t go to the moon and back for you,
no matter how much I want to.
So instead,
I choose to stay.
I choose to hold you.
And wonder with you
rather than leave you alone in the dark.
Jan 20
Jan 20, 2026 at 5:51 PM UTC
Look at me
do I really look like I want to die?
Yes, you do.
You keep tearing yourself apart like a hound,
hurting, hunting
for feelings that aren’t yours.
Your eyes, bloodshot.
Your skin, torn.
Your mind wandering,
searching for space to breathe.
I look into your pools of red,
praying I can heal you,
fix you,
mend this limping body of yours.
But I know my limits.
I know I can’t go to the moon and back for you,
no matter how much I want to.
So instead,
I choose to stay.
I choose to hold you.
And wonder with you
rather than leave you alone in the dark.
