Something inside me,
Is always wrong.
A hollow feeling,
That carves out a dip in my chest,
Fear and fleeting despair,
That I'm always distracting my brain from.
And endless fight against slurries of torrid thoughts -
I am all consumed by myself,
And my relationships suffer for it.
I want to hole up and crawl away,
Run into a busy street and splatter against the pavement-
Or #### me open from neck to stomach,
And hang my dripping body over the desolate garden.
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 7:49 PM UTC
Something inside me,
Is always wrong.
A hollow feeling,
That carves out a dip in my chest,
Fear and fleeting despair,
That I'm always distracting my brain from.
And endless fight against slurries of torrid thoughts -
I am all consumed by myself,
And my relationships suffer for it.
I want to hole up and crawl away,
Run into a busy street and splatter against the pavement-
Or #### me open from neck to stomach,
And hang my dripping body over the desolate garden.
