Please, walk the world in my shoes. Experience the tiredness and the dead feeling in my brain. The autopilot that kicks in sometimes, the apathy that takes control and the anxiety that roams my brain. You cannot tell me that I am not trying. Do you not remember what it feels like to not care? Do you not remember what hopelessness feels like?
It's so strange that these memories abandoned your mind. Do you not remember when you skipped school almost everyday, not caring that your mother was late to work everyday just to drop you off? Because she does. You think I'm don't care about anything? You're one to talk.
That poison spewing from your mouth isn't any good. It leaves a bad aftertaste, a slight bitterness. Maybe you believe this is medicine, but either way you're making me sick. The poison will rot my insides and I'm not sure if you can tell.
I need you to bring me back to life, to heal me.
Oh, mother, please kiss my wounds, I silently beg of you. I will not admit that you have mistaken poison for medicine, but I will showcase the rot the poison has gifted to my already rotted brain. Please don't mistake the rot the poison gifted with the rot my brain already had.
YOU ARE READING
Stuff to think about
Casuale*may be triggering* just my deep thoughts 💭 Has some poetry randomly scattered in this along with philosophical ideas/questions. Lots of questions. Edit: I wrote this in my "I think I'm smarter than everyone" phase in middle school so I am WELL AWA...
