Sat, 06/12/2021 - 02:42 -- Jaemak1

That night, my hands were not my own.

My mind- I was not home.


I did not caress, I did not cry.

You did what I was told.

I wanted it all to explode.

I wanted it all to burn at my feet.


I wanted to be a burning beacon of the end.

I wanted to burn alive.


I am burning alive

This poem is about: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 



im sorry.

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741