I'm standing here.
On the edge.
I look at the little orange pot in my shaking hand then at the chaotic roads beneath me.
I must be 20 stories up.
The floor is grey and crumbled. Each stone a little piece of the building that society had shattered. Surrounded by names and phrases that today's youth had painted with blind eyes.
No one would notice a skinny boy standing above. After all I am here because reality has rejected me. I am a outcast. Just another plain silhouette in a sea of bright faces.
I can feel myself slowly slipping back to where a used to be. I don't want to go but the voices in my head are trying to kill me.
The cigarets make me calm, alcohol makes me forget, drugs make me happy the cuts make me numb. I look at the orange bottle.
These would make it all go away.
I'd be forgotten in a month anyway.
I think of him. The way he smiles and flicks his hair.
No.
You can't be fixed by the same person who broke you. He poisoned my mind with a sick myth. He made me feel.
I filled my lungs one shaking breath.
He could turn every frown into a smile with a few simple words, he could lift my head when I was losing faith. He would patch up every cut I made and fix it with a healing kiss. He could make me laugh even on the shittiest of day. But now he's gone.
I jumped.
YOU ARE READING
Poisoned mind
عشوائيDon't mean for anything to be triggering or offensive, this might get deep and maybe too drop for some people but this is the reality of some people lives. I don't use many names in here for effect, it might be weird but please understand the reason...
