I am sick.

I am alone.

I am depressed.

Prop me up with another pill,

And maybe everything will be fine.

Before it has begun,

It will be our undoing.

I promised myself I'd never do this.

Another promise I made,

Only to lose in the dark.

I can feel it move under me.

Under my skin.

Where is this coming from?

Let it seep from my veins,

Like the ink from my pen.

And so I end.



And alone.

Maybe as it should be.