I feel sick.
Constantly.
"All my life's buried here, heap earth upon it"
I feel sick.
Constantly.
What I wouldn’t give to be creative
and be able to express it.
What I wouldn’t give
isn’t worth knowing about.
'Can I get you anything?'
'A reason for living would be nice.'
I am broken
I am hurt
Words unspoken
Emotion curt
I am sad
I am wrong
Mind mad
Tears throng
I am tired
I am lonely
Memories mired
Despair only
I am weak
I am frail
Burning cheek
Limbs fail
I am down
I am done
Brows frown
Love gone
You make me feel like I could jump from the top of the world…
…and still survive