All you can do is survive.
You know the type
Arms and chest covered in tattoos
Broad back from climbing, not afraid to bruise
Blue eyes sharp like glass
Fooled me and I let him trespass…
I hate humans — can’t stand them
They’re fake, they act like they care, but they don’t
They ask what’s wrong and when you tell them, “so what? Just get over it.”
I’m slipping back — to the dark place in the back of my head. The place that tells me people are better off when I’m gone. The place that asks me why I even bother living. The place that tells me to make that cut deeper, longer, to draw more blood.