I sit in my bathroom shower running head buried into my knees trying to not see the blood stained walls in front of me I avoid the mirror as I no longer recognize my face begging screaming for help but every reference was skimmed over the water sounds different like a pulse is it mine? This room is so dark even with a light on or is that just my brain playing tricks on me? Everyone was right about me.. medically claimed insane maybe that's why being called a psycho triggered me so badly why so many people got hurt why I got so mad. The bathroom has always been my safe space even after what that kid did to me. As long as I stay locked away no one will get hurt. But is it worth hurting myself over? Blood will be shed just not sure if it'll be my own. I was taught isolation is key so why do I feel like my thoughts are eating me alive? My brain is on fire can't you fucking hear me can't anyone fucking see how burnt out I really am so many fucking problems and so many people need me yet I am locked away hiding myself from pushing my problems on others I am suffocating in obedience drowning in everyone's doubt and misery the water is getting faster the room is getting smaller that light is getting brighter and the air is getting hotter I know you see it you have to see it look at what I've made of you look at what I made of us we are now one person no one can take away this weight from us can't you feel the pain the tears the pulsing chest pain the burn in just breaking your mind can't you understand it now I wasn't always broken like this I was normal blind I was a child a stupid useless child coloring on the damn sidewalk ignoring the warning signs telling me to stay home I broke for you for all of you everyone now can share me have a piece of me until their isn't anything left I keep getting smaller and smaller I don't know who I am am I really a person or a figment of someone else's imagination? Am
I truly in control or is this just a story ? Don't you see we don't know we don't know how many people have to die to paint a mansion in blood we don't know how many car wrecks it'll take to end the world we don't know how many killers roam the streets your home your room your bed we don't know anything and we will never know we will die with no food for thought because we are all useless pawns in a bigger game we fail to understand I am not my own I am someone else's I lost myself the summer of 2019 and again in October of 2019 and again and again and again and again all my doors of opportunity are traps and I'm not falling for it anymore I will die alone in this bathroom with too much food for thought that I will live in your dreams reminding you none of this is real you are not in control
