sharpened pencils

what's left to care about?

why can't anything i do be worth it?

am i left here, alone, lonely, always, forever, endlessly?

for what?

tears and tears and tears.

silence and smiles and pretending

is it worth the effort?

when will something be easy again?

how could something come easy ever again?

when everything i work towards

when i try to do something RIGHT

crushes me again

and again

and all over again.

it's exhausting

it's a game rigged against you

don't stand still

but don't move either

pick a door

and maybe you'll die fast

because don't worry

the bruises

and blood and

excruciating pain

that's on us,

free forever

regardless of what you want from us

you'll always know how we feel about you.

again

and again

and again

and again.

endless loops of painful blood

but nothing ever stops.

am i numb?

is this numb?

do the tears tell me something else

because i swear

i swear deep to my blood and bones

(what's left, at least)

that i will never find a way to recover

is there anything else left to do but hide

but is there even any shame left?

i've cried and cried

hid and screamed

turned black and blue

and for what?

who would i cheat for?

who would i break myself for?

who am i doing it for?

me?

and here's the billion-dollar question

the one wedged in my heart

that can't be removed or else you bring out the muscles and blood and pain

don't need more pain

the question of it all:

am i even worth it anymore?

is there an "i" left to mourn

to remember

because what is trying going to do

but bring me further away

through the red of blood

the thick cloud of pain

and the ripping

stabbing feeling

that nothing

will ever

ever

ever

find its way to an end.

answer me.

/