Isn't it awful

How things never stop.

How your guts sink and churn

And your wrists bleed

But never bleed out

Never sink and fall out of your body

How you can love

And dig your fist into your mouth

Reach in,

Gagging while your eyes sting and cry

Grab your heart

And tear it out

How you can smile through tears

And put it in someone else’s hands

How they can peel back the layers

Letting bubbles of blood rise on your heart’s veiny surface

And sting while they tear the pages from you

And when it's over and done

You have to take your shredded heart back

And you let it happen

And now you must take it back. 

You must mend it.

How you can try to tear it apart further but it just doesn’t die.

Isn’t it rude

How carelessly

The cigarette still smokes

And the moon still comes out each night.

How am I meant to do the same?

I suppose I just am.

I suppose I just am supposed to get on the bus each morning,

To brush my hair and walk places.

Supposedly.

But, isn’t it awful.