I look back at the periods,
In which I was unwell.
Drugs,
Depression,
Worse.
How many times,
Did I drag relationships across the floor?
Studded as it was with nails.
Broken promises.
Crushes.
Shattered hearts.
Haunted times,
In which I tried to kill myself.
Failed.
So,
What now?
Clawing Oneself Forwards Upon The Bloodied Stumps Of Fingers.
