I am nothing but scar tissue
Nothing but a rage filled heart with all its arteries clogged
These lungs are empty
This mind is sick
It is throwing up in the pages of my favorite book called
“Revenge Is an Open Wound”
But my wounds weren’t pretty
If they were maybe someone would have noticed
I can not
Absolutely not
Stand that I might feel this awful forever
My therapist
Well she thinks I’m miserable
But I think I’m miserable
But don’t tell anyone
I’m walking a thin line over an ocean of hate
And who knew I could drown so well
I am a child
I am hurt
I am all the emotions of a bad hangover mixed into one
Because you drank yourself stupid
Because you couldn’t stand the thought of me,
Well, existing