i should be sleeping ; journal

[drown me]

; the wrath

the wrath hits you when you least expect it, anchoring your weak, tiny feet down into the depths of existential questioning and feeble dreams ; all gone.

the wrath pulls you down into a deep, endless well, so fast you didn't even have time to take in that last gulp of fresh air, leaving u trembling to stick your head out of the water, gurgling, suffocating
drowning.

the wrath takes you by the neck and slams you to the cold, unforgiving ground. the pain pierces, the numbness echoes, your bones shatter under the weight of everything and nothing at the same time.

i never said i had steel bones.

the wrath screams in your face with indignation, and you so desperately but hopelessly clamour to shield your ears from the impact, but it rips through your whole body and ricochets through your guts, now your nothing but a pile of jagged bones and tainted cloth, tossed at the edge of the wall of a miserable, hollow concentration camp.

in the end, we are nothing but bone and flesh.