The time before despair.

Switchblade to my neck counting my last breaths.

Looking up at the ceiling grasping for a feeling.

I think about all the times I lied to myself.

Not a word or a sound leaving my mouth.

I stayed afloat for so long.

My time only limited in my mind. 

False hopes fuels my future.

I hope to see a better future.

I don’t actually hope.

In fact I stay in despair.

Despite it all, I still strive.

Internally I sigh.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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