These words.
Do they mean anything
when the echo fades?
So much change
Such refusal to see.
Can’t see harsh enough.
Can’t be self, so be bothered.
In wake of another mission.
Help me.
Help me.
I can’t
Don’t
know how I’ll last.
Help me.
Deep inside is something squirming free that wants to be better than me.
I want to be better than me.
This one down
the last line,
each one in time.
The person I truly am neglected,
for something that never should have been.
The seeking sanity comes trickling in,
a dark so painful it dissolves the skin.
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