Trying to wrap up my many thoughts, there goes the siren again.
Right now, its real; its physical.
Everyday, its real; its mental.
My wrists sting from Friday night's mental breakdown.
My body aches, recovering from the soft red pills shoved down my pulsing throat.
I'm itching.
Anger has no synonym when its swelling up inside of me.
Everyday is a day to endure.
I feel more when I want to feel less.
I care more when I want to be apathetic.
There is no quick-fix in this fast-paced life,
But let me know when you find one.
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