Things From The NightMature

Oh god I need to throw up, 

get these toxins out of my system,

get your taste out of my mouth,

the feel of your hands out of my skin.


I'm sick,

I'm burning up

no one to hold my hand this time,

to sit by my bedside,

run a cold cloth over my overheated forehead.


need to find the razors,

my sisters hidden them,

only water for me now,

cold dirt-filled grave,


I'm drowning in despair,

I kind of want to escape this world

if only for a little while,


before I'm brought back by the beeping of machines,

the sterile starkness of a 

hospital room's blank white walls.


you see, I can never find to 

to get a way out

of this universe

for an eternity,


and I'm not sure if I 

ever had the willpower

to fully leave 

in the first place.

The End

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