“cut it out
this isn’t normal
what you’re doing.”
So I did.
First, I cut my limbs so I wouldn’t reach. For and out.
Then, in doubt, I cut my doubts into little pieces and threw them
away. Not away-away, but put them aside like you put a picture you’re hoping to look at one day. Again.
“When?” I asked while looking for a prey.
Then I cut a part of my brain with medication as an excuse so swell.
“It’s OK, I’m not well” I encouraged myself as moments passed.
Time didn’t travel as fast, though.
So I opted for a lobotomy and now I don’t know.