How cold you seem
When you speak like that
Your dead eyes
Your pale skin
As I stretch forever
My skin all chopped up
Pushing forward
If you could come with me
Killing myself slowly
A game of chance
One day I'll fly away
I can't take this anymore
Blood pressure rising
I don't know much
I'm not that smart
I'm not that bold
Knives and Razors are a comfort
A comfortable place to find myself
If only
Attention doesn't find me
It doesn't exist
It just lingers
As if
Blood is so much better
Than the blood I gave myself
I don't know
I don't know what I don't know
Lifeless I lay here sourly and bitter
As if only alive out of spite
Spiteful people live longer
I don't know death
I love death however, I'm in bliss
I'm slowly becoming more and more comfortable
I'm panicking
I don't know if it's cold
Warm
Neutral
It doesn't matter
Fear pushing me forward
Fear keeping me at bay
Except it's not fear
It's a obsessive thought of control
YOU ARE READING
Vent art, poetry, and just... vent
PoetryTW, it gets dark. If you have a passion for bizarre stuff and shitty poetry and mental illness then this book is...... concerningly accurate to your unhealthy interests. I'm okay, don't worry 👍😘
