If I could sort my thoughts, then I would tell you exactly what I'm thinking.
If I could explain the pleasure I felt tonight, then you would cringe with disgust.
If I could feel anything right now, then I hope it to be the sting on my skin.
If I could be okay, but that doesn't seem to be for me.
Hunched over all pathetic
with tears in my eyes- and
knowing later I'd regret it
i held that blade to my side.
My hair has been arranged in knots
and my glasses thrown somewhere on the floor
Where is my breathing I seemed to forgot
yet every breath aches my lungs even more.
Narrow and dark my vision recedes
as my throat suffocates my sense to calm
the fuck down but I still bleed.
I feel so high- I don't know what's going on.
Disappointing and childish I tell myself
I receive all the pain I deserve
and I can't even ask for your help
because all this pain is what you served.
I took and I swallowed every last word
every ounce of heart I felt today
was shredded, trampled on and burned.
A feeling I am afraid to say.
My apologies I'd collect and submit
to you are as worthless as I am,
and these mistakes are more than I can admit.
I am a pitiful fucking shame.
Shame on me.
If I could express how I felt, my last words would be "i'm okay".