January 25, 2024 6:32pm - 7:06pm
My brain it repeats.
I'm tired (I'm tired. I'm tired.)
There's no air in my lungs—
My lungs? Can I breathe?
God my heart,
My heart is on fire.
Gravel in my eyes?
in my arms?
in my spine.
"Shut up!"
"I wasn't talking!"
"You're lying! You're lying! You're lying!
I'm crying?"
"His eyes, they're there;
Her hair—"
"Hush now,
it won't be long."
And he stands there marvelling in his work while I'm:
Dying. Bleeding. Gone.
YOU ARE READING
Pleas of Futility
Non-FictionMy innermost thoughts; My innermost secrets, And now... They belong to you.
