sitting here in front of another half-finished poem,
essay, poster, letter,
mirror with another blade in my hands
i'm so ******* sick of myself
i'm just done
shouldn't there be more
than the whisper the murmur the scream in my head?
more than red?
why can't i get over this?
get over you? i keep reaching and reaching
and i'm so close if only you'd unshackle my wrists
from the place in your heart where you keep me, to stay
why don't you see how much more there is?
how much beyond falling?
why don't you see that whatever you do
however much you care
i'll come back here?
it's not your fault.
3d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 1:57 AM UTC
sitting here in front of another half-finished poem,
essay, poster, letter,
mirror with another blade in my hands
i'm so ******* sick of myself
i'm just done
shouldn't there be more
than the whisper the murmur the scream in my head?
more than red?
why can't i get over this?
get over you? i keep reaching and reaching
and i'm so close if only you'd unshackle my wrists
from the place in your heart where you keep me, to stay
why don't you see how much more there is?
how much beyond falling?
why don't you see that whatever you do
however much you care
i'll come back here?
it's not your fault.
