Me in tears with my mum downstairs drinking glass after glass of wine.
It’s a daily event, a normal life and I just want to stop and die.
It’s loneliness but in a sole tearing way, as there is nothing that can make me feel better that anyone could say.
Yet I sit here writing more and more but all I can think about is what might happen for sure.
The people I care about, and trust most, seem to be the ones who hate me most,
And the ones who are there for me all the time, I can not be with, maybe for a short while.
The future looks bright but not for a long time, as more of this sitting and crying is here.
I don’t know what to do, except sob alone, and wait in hope for the last drop of tear.
But it will not come, not with life this way, been alone daily and hiding away.
It’s like I’m empty inside, and dreams have disappeared, and that all I can wait for is not to fear.
I want to do what I know I can’t, as hurting me would betray another.
I can not lie, I can not be honest, I want to just find a place to be alone from the world.
Each drop is exciting; the thrill is capturing as the redness pouring show’s pain and suffering.
The hurt is addictive, and makes me want more, as hurt is the only thing that can calm my tears.
Each cut is a painting of what life has done each one with a meaning and its own little pun.
The scar is a shut door, to the pain of the moment and each new scar is moment shut away.
My peers infected with diseases provoking hate.
The very room they step in becomes infested with sickness, and I have to get away.
The alcohol becomes water, leading me to be sickened, and anger becomes violence leading me to pain.
The depression becomes sharp, and creating new scars and the scars become tears which flow all night.
The cycle goes on in this house of disease, and I need it to end, all of it now.
With time so long yet life so short what’s the point of suffering?
With time so long yet life so short, why worry about the future?
Who will know me in 100 years time, so what’s the point in living?
With life so long yet time so short will there be a cure?
All I can think now, as I sit in tears, is what the pain will become, and what will be the next symptom of disease?
