I can't breathe because
every. single.
molecule of me is filled
not with oxygen
but with
disgust for myself
I don't know anything anymore
because there is always screaming in my head
there always seems to be blood on my hands
and I'm so broken and tired and sad and scared and angry
I hate myself
I hate this world
I hate that I'm crying
and I hate that you know
YOU ARE READING
silk thin threads
PoetryExcerpt: i hold on, sweaty hands grasping- at a thousand different silk thin threads: reasons to stay. Trigger warning: includes references and abstract depictions of depression, anxiety , suicide, self harm and mental illness.
