I'm beginning to wonder
if these scars are...
When I stopped writing I
swallowed words...
Nobody listens to me
You think I'm too young to know...
I hear you knocking
to come in...
There's a salty ache in my ribcage
it radiates out through my muscles and bones...
I don't like myself that much.
162 centimeters of flaws...
I've been feeling unimportant,
No matter what I do they leave...
I live in patterns of
misguided energy...
It's been many weeks since you have gone
I realize I'm still holding on...
If I had five minutes
to talk to you...
Salt upon my cheeks, they fall upon the thought of...
Salt upon my palms, to shelter the face of shame...
"Ich bin müde, immer müde zu sein"
I am tired of always being tired...