i don't want to write poetry today.
the words aren't coming out.
but i haven't updated in forever,
so this is what this is about.
i hate myself for living,
and for wanting to die.
i hate myself for everything,
and for how i always cry.
i don't feel like a real man,
when everyone calls me she.
i don't know how to be happy
when from that i'll never be free.
food controls me every moment,
i'm a puppet on its strings.
i binge and starve and purge each night,
and my body barely sings.
my cats and family and friends
all keep me here today.
but what will one day happen
if one somehow goes away?
