My shoulders hurt.
I don't feel good,
I could even say I feel really bad.
I keep changing between
Anger, terror, sadness and guilt.
I can't breathe,
And everything feels like too much,
But there's only fog around me.
I fucked up,
And the words are spinning.
My hands are sore from the biting,
And my arms hurt from the pressure.
Tears keep pouring,
And everything is so much worse.
Why do I feel like it was inevitable?
Why does it feels like I'm coming home?
It's my fault.
At least, my shoulder's pain
Is good and familiar,
A link to reality.
I know the science, the reasons behind it all.
But it doesn't change the fact that I want to scream.
My words are not organize, not in order.
I want to throw them against the wall,
And put them in order,
But I'm too numb to do anything.
I'm tired,
But sleeping feels like too much.
I thought I was better,
I just sold my soul to the Devil, didn't I?
He gave a few months of rest,
Of laughter, and good relationships,
Before opening Pandora's box.
Why does seeing my name is the thing,
That makes all of this so much worse.
Why did I say that?
Why did I do that?
I can't do anything.
And I may have ruined my relationship,
With one of my favorite person of Earth.
My arm hurts,
But I deserved it, didn't I?
I want to make walking hurt,
But I know that I will find pleasure in it.
I'm fucked up, no?
Why is time so slow today?
Everything is grey and null.
I cried over Spanish homework,
I couldn't read a word.
I'm going to give excuses, excuses.
I'm going to plead, and maybe cry a little.
That doesn't change that I'm in the wrong.
That doesn't change that I should have thought twice,
Before hitting 'Send'.
That's why I shouldn't give the key
To anyone
Nor let people close,
When the air disappear.
But at least,
The ache in my shoulders,
Makes it a bit better.
