Bleeding Through Its Crevice

TW: Mentions of Self-Loathing

You watch me writhe
And you make me stay
As you pull out the scythe,
I know I’ve decayed
A tight punctured hole
And desecrated mind
If anyone finds my soul,
Please tell them I’m fine

Grind into the slit–
Of anguish, where I fall
Maybe then, I’ll take a hit
And feel the worst of it all
A wolf’s hungry eyes
Prey on the ones who pay
With guilt and cries
A swirl to it, a pitiless stray