i am a wound that never heals,
a mistake stitched into skin,
breathing, but never really alive.
i can't look at myself without wanting to scream,
to tear at the edges of who i am
until there's nothing left to recognize.
every mirror is a knife
i can't stop pressing against my throat.
i don't want to exist,
don't want to be this body,
this face,
this hollow shell of everything i swore i wouldn't become.
i want to disappear,
to unwrite my name,
to slip into the cracks of the earth
and leave no trace behind.
i hate myself with a fire
so hot it burns through my veins,
leaving only ashes and smoke.
there's nothing redeemable here,
nothing worth saving.
just this rotting thing,
clinging to life like it has any right to.
i want to sever every thread
that ties me to this world,
to everyone who's ever known me,
to the memories they'll carry like burdens.
i want to vanish so completely
that even the stars forget i was ever here.
and i think—
maybe if i could destroy myself,
if i could crush this version of me
under the weight of my own hatred,
maybe i could finally breathe.
maybe i could finally be free.
but the truth is,
i am already dead inside,
dragging this corpse of a person
through days that don't want me.
and the worst part is,
even that isn't enough.
YOU ARE READING
poems
Poesíapoems i've written. i recommend reading from the bottom of the parts and working up to the first one. i promise they get better and more lengthy. the first few poems are rhyme schemes, the rest are free verse peoms. please don't take without credits...
