tw: dr/nk

Blood is staining my hands, pure vodka running down my throat – the bitter taste leaving a painful trail behind.

I am alone.
I am no one.
I am nothing.

Tears may be falling down my face, yet why should anyone care.

I am no one.
I am nothing.

Even spilling red is nothing but a sign I lost.

Why keep fighting when I am not wanted.
Why keep living, breathing.

“There are better off without you” – right?

Advertisements

About thetasteofwrittenwords

Ema. Twenty-something. Panromantic asexual. University student, artist and writer. Proud feminist. View all posts by thetasteofwrittenwords

You must be logged in to post a comment.

%d bloggers like this: