What if I go home now? What if all this was a waste? I want to go home now. It's okay. It's going to be okay. To be weeping alone in darkness. Like I've been doing all along.
Help me. I saw the moon perched above me on the brightly lit night sky and yet I'm drowning in complete darkness. Save me. I'm sobbing on the floor over our past and what was done, what was done to me and to him and to her and to us all. Kill me. As I obsess over my worthlessness and stalked a life or two that should had never have involved my fingerprint. Stab me - in my heart when I relive my horror over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. Let me die. In my heartbreak. Before you come home and I'll pretend that it's all okay.
when you get addicted to poison knowing full well the pain only gets worse itching for disaster throbbing to choke on your own mistakes you forfeit yourself.
Bomb in my chest ticking Drumbeat in my ears pulsating When it aches to simply breathe and exist Then I know I've died. Done it before, and resurrected Each time the recovery is a bit easier Yet the moment of death hurts all the same. Not quicker, no less pain.