as she sits on her chair
sobbing into her already drenched sleeves
she adjusts the Stanley knife so that it will induce the most satisfaction
pressing down onto her for arm and leaning back with her eyes closed
she listens to the rain on her window and compares as the tears run down her face
the old scars are faded and forgotten the now blood spotted cuts on her arm are such a bad decision
she knows this
but it is too hard to fight the urge
where are you
i need you the most at this moment
i need you to tell me that we will be OK
i need you to tell me to stop crying and to start fresh
i need you because you somehow understand me
i want to tell you everything
but i know i will never be able to put it into words
my life is slowly fucking up
where are you
No comments:
Post a Comment