There's a chemical imbalance in my head. I wish I was dead.
I think there's a pest in my chest, that is trying to kill my conquest.
These pests are littering my mind hiding from the light and luring me to the depression, for it's tight embrace is comforting and terrifying.
Comforting because it's so familiar, it knows me inside, out.
I need to cut the ties with the lies I tell my self.
The constant chit chat between my selves is hypnotically mesmerizingly deceitful. With a dreadfully direly death inducing rhythm like a sirens song. Luring to their end.
I used to find salvation in self harming. I was testing the waters, until it took me under. I lost a friend and realize the pain, never leaves it only becomes desensitized further because I was hospitalized.
Isolated and lonely, every day, wishing for the dismay to disarray.
About the Creator
Jack Kirwood
Is freedom?
Reality meeting itself on its own terms, seeing through the looking glass, mirroring itself.
Absurdity, realism, wondrously weird and INSANE.
This is what you'll find,
Read bottom up.
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