I grab the parchment paper,
and bleed my words.
Through the transparent material,
you read my pain.
Bleeding, bleeding, breaking treachery.
My eyes seek,
through the fog,
pigments of reassurance.
All I find is dust,
burning my corneas.
I fall into a cardboard box,
and drift through space,
black ink pulsing into my chest.
I scream, but my words bounce back.
You would tell me if something was wrong, right? they ask.
No, I think.
Lips are liars aren't they?
I sit back for a while,
skin resilient against the rough cardboard.
I'm so tired now,
I'm so done,
so ready to hand in my weapons,
and confess.
I'M SAD!
I"M ALONE!!
I WANT LOVE!!!
I WANT TO FEEL LOVED!!!!
I can't, I just....
can't.