Eight years, I discovered fire:

My hands burnt; My eyes ablaze;

My consciousness awoke.

I paid with hope,

Hoping that light

Highlights lowly lit truths.

Truth is, I found

Truths that tore the thoughts

In half, in pieces, in strings

Lost things:

My future, my morale,

And their strings.

I dotted the i’s,

Crossed T’s/Q’s,

And left my

friends.

I left my life

And dreamt by death

To oust dry oblivion.

I had nothing left, for my dreams were ousted young.

There’s no peace:

Just missing strife.

And I remained alive, despite death encircling me, and my foot within oblivion.

You weren’t there because I couldn’t handle

that You might’ve seen a dead person inhabiting

My room. You and I are here, and that’s all I

asked.

…

I begged a lot:

Friendships that worked;

A support system;

And for life to pause.

I don’t live alone in my head.

Less than ten grams,

Granting a vehicle of freedom,

Fingers bound to the bar, as the cold tip pressed on the temple.

Pointer hugging 

My exit.