sometimes i have visions
of holding a knife in my hand
of pressing it against my wrist
of sawing desperately to break my skin
IT DOESN'T SEEM REAL.
sometimes i look back
disliking myself for wanting
hating myself for trying
loathing myself for failing
IT WASN'T ME.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a Neurotic Insomniac
PoetryLet's see how this goes. It's time for this sleep-deprived, emotionally-unstable creature to write some shit down.
