The Cycle
Yesterday I woke up wanting to die.
The cup is not half empty as pessimists say, as far as it seems there is nothing left in the cup.
You almost made me cry again this time.
Pick the scabs and pick the bleeding.
It burns.
It stings.
It itches.
It heals.
Wait until it's over.
You asked for this.
Repeat.
So deep, that it didn't even bleed and catch me off guard.
Positive scab that's never healing.
I guess it's better that you trapped yourself in your own way.
Surely you can take some comfort. knowing that you are mine.
Don't say a prayer for me.
Feel alone because I'm gone.
Made a promise to keep for better ends.
Ima come out a survivor.
Unharmed.
The used.
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