Behind those Coats
Jackets have outgrown me many times over,
but the agony of night and morning never does.
One size, fits all.
There should have been an obituary for rare disease, not me.
Wishing all these slits within my wrist could have been replaced by reality check, "I chose to exist."
The call of cognomen causes a sigh to escape from lips,
that do not feel like they belong to me,
the girl,
whose words always had to be special.
The artifice scheme of hospitals
like a birthmark in my brain,
born into sadness,
a gut feeling as a child.
Never trusting time
due to what it delivers.
Quietus, being the only thing I desired.
But you,
who I love endlessly,
robbed by it.
Who dwindle for life glowed so jittery.
Stopped comparing depression to lace,
restricted the belief that suicide is poetic,
seeing things as they were.
More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply.
Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes.
This world is not flimsy.
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