Fear rules you, owns you, and Drinks your tea. Your walls Are closing in, your back Aches, you can't breathe, Your lungs can't pump air, Your head is light and trippy, And where is your inhaler now? You're going to die, The pain does it nice and slow, Twisting the knife slowly, Pouring salt on ragged, bleeding edges. You're going to die. Today, tomorrow, and the next day. You can die the same way Every day. Your world will Collapse in on itself, And you'll wish you were dead Each time you died.
Reason for writing:
There are two sides of me that seem to struggle with each other, my dark side, and then
the light side. The dark side needed to be expressed.
Birth sign: Not entered
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