With a bleeding heart.
My eyes seem blurry
In a light-headed way
Hands that shake
And a head that throbs.
Muscles that refuse to move
At the command of my mind
And bones that seem
They’ll crumble if stood upon.
What use am I
In this broken body,
No will power left
Or desire for hope.
Not lucky enough
To curl up and sleep,
So here I sit
Ill to my stomach
At the blurry vision
Of my weak self.
Age 20