There is little left for me.

My life’s battles and struggles unyielding;

I feel a drop a warmth drip down my skin and my heartbeat quickens.

The things I am to leave behind all flash behind my eyes

And then I toss weapon of my destruction aside.

It was forged from guilt, self-loathing, and fear and all at once my life becomes clear.

The things I bottled up inside twist in my gut,

They make me sick and I feel its deep cut.

The pain forces from me a wretched cry that no one can hear.

A disembodied voice pleads with an unresponsive universe,

To make time reverse,

To make the clock stop,

To make this curse upon her end.

She seeks solace in childhood hideaways,

And when morning comes, no one knows anything