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