Holding onto a prism of light, I’m on a writing roll with this grief, breaking things, leaving hidden marks on me.
I can’t give you a reason.
I was fine and now I’m wanting to rid the world of me.
I love myself.
I hate myself.
I feel overwhelmed.
I can’t take this hell.
The worst of these feelings is not truly knowing if it’s just me that’s hurting me or of theres some nameless toxicity.
Hounding me, I’m grounded but below the soil.
I’m molding and melding but not refined, I’m a coil.
I’m glue, stuck and screwed.
Whichever road I take, I keep falling back into the gloom.
Gloomy days won’t go away.
The irony sickens me as the sun won’t shift this mood I’m in.
Everyone seems so aloof.
I’m so confused.
I want you near me.
I want you to hold me.
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