My fingers felt like they would break,
Not bend
If I wiggled the pinky one it probably would snap.
Frost bite having set in.
Laying on the pier
Staring at stars, choking on the sea air and
Sniffling at the salt crystallized on your tastebuds.
I felt more comfortable and connected,
As I lay there, on cold hard cement.
The cold creep of a deathly chill seeping into my back, unprotected even by thick down.
I did not care, I was content, and alone. For my life felt over, at 22.
My life felt over.
Barely having lived and yet cut down.
Ironic for I have no legs as I lay there, on the pier
Staring at stars, choking on the sea air and
Sniffling at the salt crystallized on your tastebuds.
My eyes beginning to close, as I felt my arms grow stiff, and ready to snap.
For at 22 I had failed out of school,
The third time in five years.
But nothing holds me here,
Not even
Laying on the pier
Staring at stars, choking on the sea air and
Sniffling at the salt crystallized on your tastebuds.
As I all but break under the cold glove of reality,
Welcoming the warm embrace of hell's fire.
