it's a bottomless pit. every scream is stifled by the emptiness; not a sound echoes back. the only reason you know it's a bad thing is because others have told you so. otherwise, it's just a pit. it's not the hole that's hurting you, it's you yourself. when the tears aren't enough to fill it back up, you start to throw in other things. it starts with your meal schedule, then your hobbies and interests, then your motivation, then your relationships. you toss in item after item, but the bottomless pit is infamous for a reason. you take out a knife, and you slice away at your skin. a sliver of your wrist, a slice of your thigh, a shred from your hip, feeding yourself to the beast in hopes of salvaging your sanity. and when you've thrown all that you can give, when there's nothing left to sacrifice, you start to wonder if it's worth fighting against after all.
YOU ARE READING
Open To Interpretation
PoetryThis is a collection of some of my old poems, short stories, and other writing that I created a few years ago, while I was going through a really rough patch in my life. I wanted to publish it back then, but this is the best that I can do for now. E...
