The wine has gone straight to my head - I see unkempt hospital sheets and blood on the bed.
My hands are shaking and can't slow down my heart - It happens every night now; every night I fall apart.
This isn't because of love, in fact I'm almost over her - my mind just feels as complex as a riddle that is too difficult to decipher.
I can smell the scent of hospitals and my nausea levels rising and it's too much for me to bear - I don't know why I'm writing this because I already know no one cares.
My point is that I don't want to be here anymore - I don't want to stick around to see what's behind the next door.
Quite frankly I'm done and I have nothing left in me - funny how this happens everytime I feel as though I've set me free.
I'm exhausted and this wine is going straight to my head - am the only person who can see all this blood in my bed?
YOU ARE READING
wannabe
Rastgele"like all sad people, I am a poet" - kill your darlings //my shitty excuse for poetry
