6 / Something's wrong
Something's wrong, I think to myself
as nails print red marks onto pale skin
as teeth bite down into chapped lips
as glossy eyes glare up at the ceiling
at 1 AM.
Something's wrong, I think to myself
as cold inhales pierce the lungs
and fingers stiffen with a pen on paper
as face is turned to the board but thoughts are a million miles away
at 2 PM.
Something's wrong, I think to myself
as leg intertwines shakily with leg
as eyes dart up and down, looking out for nothing
as hands hover above keyboard, typing A-M-I-D-E-P-R-E-S-S-E-D-?
at god knows when.
Something's wrong.
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