I beg for one to wonder where I’ve been in the days of my absence.
I beg for someone to even notice my seat is empty.
I’ve made a friend in my particular habits
But even they give me no empathy.
I beg for someone to understand.
I beg for someone to at least try.
My heart is shattered to the bottom on my stomach, with no hand
to recover my mind.
I beg for someone to build my soul back up.
Help me find reasons to exist.
With no one to really care-
The only feeling I could get is scratches and slits.
I’m sick of begging for care, sick of bargaining for love.
Sick of sobbing into pillows and watching my life slowly rust.
I find no reason to keep moving, the days are surely done.
I’ve got my tears in the ocean, and my eyes in the sun.
My chest aches, my feet are numb.
My back is stabbed, my hands are guns.
My fingers are frozen, my mouth tastes bitter.
Knowing if I left, there’s nothing of me they’d bother to remember.
I’ve become a joke. I have.
Sometimes I find myself laughing as well.
It’s awfully pitiful.
When you’re too depressed to kill yourself.
Father doesn’t notice.
His hearing is going bad.
I’ve been crying and screaming at night.
So maybe I should be glad?
I’m not sure. I’m dizzy.
My headache makes my eyes just roll back into my head.
I think I’m just a walking corpse.
They don’t want to see what they know to be dead.