8/29/23 *ੈ✩‧₊˚

bloody are the eyes that never rest.

sour are the thoughts that sting a sick head.

"find some peace. the fear resides in yesterday -- please, don't nurture stress." you whisper through the pitch darkness.

and i cry because you never knew what it meant

when i watched the clouds dissipate and said, "am i dead? am i dead?"

i never came back from that day.

not even when i'm trying.

not even in my church clothes.

not even at my best.