skully1031

My eyes are getting heavy,
my thoughts are growing weak.
My visions going blurry,
and I can't bring myself to speak.

With my pencil carving, like a knife.
And words bleeding on the page.
I think I may have found a way
to not feel so afraid...

I pretend this paper's everything
that has ever hurt me.
Then I cut and slice repeatedly,
until I no longer hear it scream.

A random, violent thought, I know.
But, I ask your forgiveness.
For I know not what I say.
This is my sleeping sickness.