god this is intense.

tell me. what are you going to do with your precious life?

are you going to stand on the edge of balconies

and look down, forever wondering what if, why.

my precious life?

when even your bloodstream flows with this aura of despair

desperate to escape with the next artery you tear

I just want to be somebody. somebody. someone.


you’ve got you’re whole damn life. you know that right?

and love is going to fill your soul, and God is going to give you light

those demons in your head. say it with me. ‘they are not who i am’


tell me now. what will you do with your precious life?

Darling. You are already enough, it is you that is precious.

im sad

about my life

im frustrated. sometimes.

they will eat me alive out there, i know

it now

but my thoughts have already destroyed

the only part of me that was once

worth inhaling

my sickness beats in me, like a

second heart. At times pumping its blood

of derangement and discontent through my veins

like bursts of snow storms that coat my heart

in winter

and at times you can only hear it when

alone in bed

and the silence around you reminds you of

its humming

while it pulses voices through your head

and sometimes this heart explodes and

grows

and poisons my organs sends depression

through my bones

but the heart within me, the one that

sits in the centre of my chest

is filled with faith, God, peace and rest

and it will always beat harder

and faster and with more love and blood

then any sickness

or any heart

that doesn’t beat just for me