"As you look at your bloody and somewhat slimy wrists due to the skin that hasn't yet fallen, you wish that it won't, not because you don't want to die but because somewhere deep inside the dark, cold recesses of your mind you still hope some part of you is fixable. That some part of you can still recover, but you know it won't as you watch it slip away. Just like the rest of you."
YOU ARE READING
Girl In Healing
PoetryLittle sweet nothings I began to write myself at a young age that turned to madman ramblings, I'm writing this book not as a cry for help but as a beacon to every soul who became lost the same way I did.
