Tick Tick Tick

My time is running out,
My life is seeing a picture,
A light that infests my darkness,
Like little hands,
They pull and grab,
At me and tear my skin away,
Forgetting all the colours,
Paint I never knew,
A face that was a whisper,
A place of shores,
No water present.
No floors or walls,

Hear the wind so icy,
Feel it in my skin,
Hands that didn’t hold me,
Skins that touch me deep,
A childhood never known,
A sickness I feel inside,
A cut to make me good,
A hood to help me hide,

So open tears and make them,
See the memories inside,
Hear my dreams outside my head,
See what will make you cry,
See these black eyes,
And stitched up mouth,
That holds me in its frame,
See the child I feel like,
Sitting in the corner along,

The moths flying around me,
The walls flicking into scribbles,
Me sitting on the floor,
Naked and crying,
Hugging my knees,
And blood staining the floor,
The wood creeks,
And I cannot speak anymore,
Holding a wish that makes me fall,

Shaking because of coldness,
Outside and within,
Skin so pale,
Because of blood loss and darkness,
So fragile,
No sleep or food I have,
An illness of self abuse,
A clock of death with an alarm,
A figure in the wind,
Hair showing no face,

Hold down the hands.
And let the sand have water,
Let the face be seen,
And let me finally be one,
Be me,
Be clean…