The harder you try to kill it, the more evil it becomes, the more parts of you it takes.
The urge to rip your skin off, cut yourself open, smash your damn skull
into a thousand tiny fucking pieces,
grows in any attempt to release the building pressure inside
your head and body.
Curling into a ball, muscles taunt, eyes wide, fingers jammed hard against your skull. It hurts in a way no one can see. There's screaming no one can hear. It's a pain that doesn't show.
Your head isn't yours, your thoughts aren't yours, but yet, they're still inside
telling you things.
Things you've never wanted to hear. Things you've already heard.
Things you've already thought.
Moulding them until they manifest
into something so sharp they begin to cut. You can feel your lungs filling with blood and your breathing staggers
as you suppress your cries,
silencing them from the world.
Tears run thick, much like the blood in your chest, down your fear stricken face. As the pain doesn't stop you lay curled, defeated, tired, and wishing for someone to finally kill you
because despite the blinding pain
you still can't end it yourself.
But the pain, oh the pain, causes you to see black and blue while dreaming of what would end you, free you
from the inside of your head.
The snakelike whispers that easily
roll throughout your mind
take over every part with ease.
AN: Written by me
