I laid on my bed. Texting him. Saying it's all ok that I'm fine. But I'm not. I keep promising that I won't hurt myself but I'm not sure I can keep it. I'm so glad he's not here to see me cry and to question why. I'm glad he's found her. Someone to make him happy. But it hurts that someone isn't me.so I lay here on my bed. Thinking about spilled blood. Thinking of how easy it would be just to cut and fill relief. I think on how much I want my blood to be spilled. I think about how pretty it would be. Dripping to the floor from me. I think of the pills I could take to numb and sleep and never wake up. And I know that I won't be missed by the one who showed me loving bliss. But tonight I must be going. I feel like mucky mud. I must go to see the beautiful site. Of my wonder spilled blood.
YOU ARE READING
The Unexpected
CasualeThis is a collection of random out bust and just how I feel or what's going on in my mind. some may be cheery but most will be sad
