The harsh end.

Stop.

Release your tension, grip at your thoughts of hatred, yell ‘stop!’

Breathe.

Grab my weapon around me let my skin breath out the words that I’ve been trying to say, when each day felt like ongoing pathway of “hate yourself”. 

Thoughts.

Slam, pound break the doors with crater like thoughts hitting you at the speed of light. Bruising your body with every destructive thought. Emphasizing on the insecurities that you tape to the back of your mind, because you’re never being able to rip it down in fear of getting ahead of yourself and leaving all the people you love behind.

Grip.

Clench your palms to a fist into a wish of destruction and smash the walls caving you in, the same wall carving you into a corpse when a second was a time warp slower and faster past every skipped meal to shrink you to sizes of magazine model material.

Pull.

Extend your hands to frame your scalp as you tug on your hair, imagining where you would be in 10 years.  When and how could what happens right now not hurt as much then as it does here, when every word was spears shot at the heart.  Implanting a wound that surrounds sounds your insides to muffle out any kindness.

Lie.

Find a darker meaning to all of which you used to find beautiful. Posses every pose you used to hold but never smile truthfully along with it like you used to; when we were young. Keep yourself locked in between the plans of “Leave me alone” or “pull me closer” yet disguise the fact that they were ever there to begin with.

Lose.

Spark my thoughts, set fire to my body. Crush everything trying to contain yourself when you’re losing to pain and each gain to your thoughts is another set of surrender from your mind this is the only time you have to try to win. This is not supposed to be…

The end. 

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