the constant prickle,
the never ending un-dull moments,
to me,
it all feel like needles,
battering,
ripping and shattering,
injection.
infection of all of this depression,
needles to the skin,
needles to the heart,
watch as the syringe slowly leaks poison into my body.
YOU ARE READING
Don't You Get It? ✅
Poetrywhen i tried to avoid the fact i wanted to die, by writing anti-suicide poems. now this book sort of became a person, it grew a mind, a soul, and a heart. so, in turn, it kept listening to my petty problems. (lowercase intended) Highest Ranking: #18...
