♧♧11:57 pm
in the hospital sitting here in a beige recliner waiting and watching until they send me to a prison for the mentally ill. a supposed-to-be safehaven where they'll drown me in therapy and shitty food and expect me to be okay after as if the trauma that caused my turmoil has vanished and as if being okay only takes a few days and some happy pills. as if this hasn't been haunting me for years and years. they treat my memories and my illness like pencil lines that can be erased and replaced as easy as it was to implant them in my brain. like suffering can be stopped without love.
YOU ARE READING
tears turned to ink
Poetrypieces of my thoughts and heart sewn together and melted down for me to write about trigger warning: everything
