A splitsecond


I see.
I am.
I hear.

Chills are running down my spine,
as the small brain-twisting moments,
of mental illness manipulates my mind.

I step over the boundaries,
over the edge.
Throwing myself into nothingness
Flying, crying and seeing.

It’s carving me inside
The comatose condition
bemoans my weakly ego
Which I once more fail and decline.

They see me
but yet, they don’t.
Noone does, as I wrecked myself,
disappeared from reality.

I inspect the blood, dripping from my wrist.


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