It’s become a dark hole filled with tormenting images, words, and thoughts.
All out of my own doing..
A wall made of glass that was shattered by the most delicate tap of a sharp object,
The fragments begin to fall..
Holding on by the strands of fallen memories and emotions.

The choking sensation caught in my throat,
fighting the urge to fall into a pit of anxiety ridden nerves..

Doing whatever it takes to leave them behind..
Trying hard not to fall in too deep into the self-hate and torment.

A withering sensation, squeezing the organ that supplies emotions
No more warmth towards my self, only the cold survives.

This dramatic change is not easy to swallow.

Attempting to manifest an optimistic thought seems unlikely and out of my reach.
It only continues to wage wars within my mind. This conflicting, ambiguity between sensibility and fluttering emotions is becoming a nervous bleeding within my head.

Beating myself down to a point of no return,
damage seems to be the escape.
Where is there comfort in the dark, empty spaces?

Painting something on the expressionless canvas to hide the truth from them all.
It’s a false escape, that seems to encompass me as a whole.

I hold a face in my hands.
it’s cold and hot, the wet streams of tears leave trails of salt that burn into the flesh.
Will you never try to reach me?

Sinking into the depths,
escape seems nearly impossible.
Only a shovel lies next to the enormous aperture.
This promise I made seems to fade away into the background.
Entrapment is inevitable.

Does this hell know, no end?
The words are hard to swallow.
Whispering ‘how could you do this to me?’

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