i
shave
my head
so
when
the anxiety
hits
i
cannot
rip it out.

my arms
carry
the
scars
of
lighters
and
blades.

my heart
has
your name
carved
into
the
dessicated
muscle.

some days
feel
like
death

on pause.

as
i
desperately
hit

play.

but
the batteries
have
gone
dead.

lucky
bastards.