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death.
you can feel its presence, yet you are alive.
you long for its touch, but it eludes you.
the blade is against your skin, the light glimmers off it, promising relief.
your hand trembles, the blade falls.
you fall.
you hate yourself more than ever, even when its so close, you are a coward.
you can't even do it.
you are ashamed, the tears fall.
hot, salty, burning.
you are so petty.
you take a shower to wash away your pain.
scalding hot, and far to long.
your skin is red, cleansed, but your mind is dark.
you feel the tears again.
all you want is to be free.
but you are your own prison.
YOU ARE READING
alone in the night
Short Storya collection of writings out of my mind, riddled with demons who whisper the sweetest things.
