It's on the tip of my tongue, it's something intangible.
I scratch the roof of my mouth and bathe in the aerial.
Slipping through the confines of my psyche and conscious.
Surfacing from the depths and feeling like my anger is aimless.
Left to decay in the filth of my judgmental ancestors.
The expressions on their faces reflect little more than jesters.
Contemplate a world where I fear nothing but my own hate.
I fear being trapped with myself as my roommate.
Cutting the tripwire and embracing the debris.
Finally letting go and becoming carefree.
Digging into my skin, the metal burrows deeply.
A wartime aid that has ended this life cheaply.
Swimming in the bath salts and amino acids.
Blood leaves the body and pools faster than rapids.
I fear the pain leaving will be replaced by another.
So I bide my time until I find something new to smother.
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