write myself.

them being,

too busy with others

i decided to write myself 

with a pen laying on the floor 

it didn't have a cap 

was abandoned

i picked it up 

found a crumpled paper

opened it, saw an unused side 

started writing everything needed

with stupid details 

the pen stopped working 

taking a knife i slashed it on my skin

dipped in the tip of the pen

the words were now red

it made me write everything i despised 

with scrutiny i didn't like

the words were never-ending 

i had to squeeze my hand

for the blood to spill

with tired hands i flipped the page

they have written it really great 

flowers, confetti drawn in every corner 

i looked at mine

could only see corpse of feelings

and wounded body 

of everything I thought was left behind.

— writheist.