Permanent stains ripping through my cheeks
Red paint splashed my eyes
Looking up to keep them from falling
Breaking down
Because they were meant to be
Lost my breathe far too much
Small gasps
Now I need them
Yet can’t find them
I wish I could explain
This knife won’t let me speak
Has me slowly fading
I drowned in wet salt
Nobody heard my screams
I kept them on mute
Sound was never a friend of mine
As I slowly drifted off
My veins deteriorated
My eyes melted
Burned the mere pores of my face
Leaving nothing
But a small, sad, abyss
No remedy can cure this wound
This disease
Infection.
It’s sadness
Its lonesome
It’s growing
And it will get you
Us
Soon.