(possible trigger Warning: suicide/dissosicating)
Myself became a nose
Yet I was the one to bellow at the sky
Withdraw my terror
It lay ponderous and abundant
As if tar
Emersing my every vessel to vein
Disrupting my heart's beat
My mind had became a fear machine
Crafting what I could only call my worst fears
Death is craved
My soul must be set from its prison
My life to be taken
Although my body still shivers at the thought
Blood rushes to my head
Keeping the room spinning
And vision dark
though I am unconscious, I make a decision to let it take what it owns
To consume me entirely
I despise the idea of living
Yet the consequences of dying seem much more terrifying
So
Do I sit with my every thought consumed in despair ?
Or fix my troubles
And take my last breath entirely?
YOU ARE READING
Peach Pit
Non-FictionI guess this is a vent book It has notes of poetry but it's bad I'm trying to better myself as a writer but I'm dyslexic and bad at expressing things so it's hard, but I want to push myself to create something im at least a little proud of
