January
I watch out the window of the car, trees and landscape
passing me by, knowing that I was going somewhere.
But where?
I messed up. Worse than messed up, ********, I screwed up
Everything. My life, my home, my all. I look at my arm.
Covered with the cuts and scars, I scratch them open
so I could bleed one last time.
At least that is what I thought. For the time being.
When we arrived, the people stared at me. Confused,
and helpless. I knew that most of them were here for the
same purpose.
To get better, but for me
Now I have gotten worse.
T3chn0x0nch3T Community Member 
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