It was in the stillness of the night: cold, silent and deadly.
It was in the howling of distant dogs outside, calling out or crying for help
It was in the sadness of the stars, though they shine the brightest at night must find themselves lonely because they all seem so close, but they are light years away from one another
It was in the constant ringing sound in my head that seems to drown all the other voices that are encouraging me to do terrible things. I'll try to pretend I'm not listening.
It was in the cold harsh wind banging my window; expressing anger in every thundering thud.
It was in my old age wallpaper, begging to be replaced and finally rest inside the garbage cans of filth and ****.
It was in the flickering light of the lamp by my bedside, dying and living again instantly, only to die altogether once the bulb wears out.
It was in the uncomfortable fabric of my blue blanket, clinging to my body despite its obvious protest.
It was in the in the glass of water I left in the kitchen, was it half empty? Or half full? I didn't even bother to check.
It was in the ridiculous thoughts in my head, coming on to me at once until my head suffers in pain.
It was in the truth beneath the lies I tell, they refuse to go away.
It was in the air I breathe that I can now taste. Bitter. Sad.
It was in the universe, the higher power that everyone so faithfully feared and believed.
It was in the blood that runs through my veins, poisoning me, killing me silently.
It was in me.
It was me.
I'm too late for therapy.
You can't **** what you did not create.
