With this broken body that I am blessed with,
there is little I cannot do
If I just ignore the pain and ignore the blackness
and the headaches, which distorts my vision

With shards of glass lodged in my spine,
I can never get good rest
I'm stuck in a cycle of bad sleep, pain, and bad moods
waking up in the morning feeling pissed off for whatever reason

Just writing this poem makes me feel like
any second now
my own fingers could break
like the fragile parts of the fragile me they are

With this broken mind that I am blessed with,
it takes super powers to even walk outside
some days
Other days it's just fine.

With this mind of paranoia and bad self-image,
talking to people isn't a past-time I endulge in
rather, I watch them and create stories around them,
I turn everyone I've ever met into characters in my head

And with this pain and these bad obsessions,
I don't function like you do.

Don't tell me you understand how I feel
when I want to carve loneliness into my bones;
when I want to slaughter the world with bad poetry;
when I feel so empty that I can't even cry anymore

Just...
Just stay here with me,
Okay?
Just stay here with me.