Sketched and scarred scars single-handedly saluted my state of mind.
Undeserving to live was I, widdiful indeed
I was isolated to the bed that despised me too
Consistently. Not letting me be needy for rest and stability,
Indirectly convinced me to damage myself more to a point where I could finally
Die gruesomely. To die and be known for death so that I could
Enter a place where I could finally breathe, in my wrongful and purest form. Me.

Contain yourself, don’t tell them how you feel, screamed society like a kamikaze
And I would be okay, explained the voices of those who thought it was just a phase
Nepenthe would fix me, and make me normal again, like the good ol’ normal days

So I did the exact opposite, because nepenthe would destroy me and I
Talked to my mother for more than an hour without an argument about lies
Opened my eyes to another light, one that was not my bedside table lamp. Sigh.
Pills now long flushed, I sketch with my precious kids, protecting me and mine.