I can feel it,
Everytime I move.
Like a liquid enveloping my whole body,
Suffocating me.
Like a million bugs crawling under my skin.
Like a thousand needles constantly prodding.
I feel the bumps and lumps and mounds of flesh.
I feel the urge come back again.
The blade tightly clutched in my hand.
Trying to resist the temptation to bleed.
Everytime I move,
The feeling washes over me.
That these things can never change,
Even if I get better.
Somethings never change,
And they're the things I need to change most.
If only I could go back in time,
Prevent all these irreversible changes from ever even occurring.
Changing the constant panic in my voice.
Body Count: 0.
Corpse Count: Soon to be 1.
YOU ARE READING
Sertraline
PoetryHUGE TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS ONE - Themes include: Drug Use and Overdose, Suicide and Depression, Self-harm and Abuse. [PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION]
