“Why don’t you take an afternoon nap?”
They’re rejuvenating you say?
Except my dreams aren’t cute and fuzzy,
I will gladly illustrate if I may…
I had that dark fantasy again
the one where I wake up on the floor,
awkwardly too weak to run away,
can’t manage to unlatch the door.
Warm, dried blood on my hands,
that sad disheartening feeling
as I just lie there hopelessly
staring up at the bathroom ceiling.
I begin to start with the inquiry
what course led me to end up here?
I know I am the devil who did this,
so I have no right, to shed a tear.
The feeling is just so damn euphoric
unlike any stimulating substance,
something grabs ahold of me instantly
no sense, or presence of reluctance.
Please, it is not a cry for attention,
I assure you it’s no attempt at suicide,
if you recall, just a dream this time
so nothing inside me has died.
Sweaty, frantically I wake up
pure envy and yearning pass by,
my obsession with self-mutilation
by any means, I just can’t seem to deny.