My blood runs thin
the feeling in my hands is gone
I can no longer feel the ground or know where my body plans to take me
My right hand reached for a pen
and my left reached for a rusted blade
My mind embedded and twisted to thoughts that continue to confuse me
Feeling is lost in my lips
and I can no longer feel what I am to say
Am I not held responsible for what may seep from my lips?
Am I feeling tears?
or is this warmth of my own blood?
What am I to think?
Who am I to know what will come of embracing and letting as my mind wants?
Am I right to question myself?
A fallen one of hope and a product of pain
this is all that my mind will let me hear
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