Strike a Match

June 26, 2019

All I can taste is gasoline.

Fumes billow out as I breathe.

Strike a match.

Strike a match and watch me burn.

Maybe then they'll learn

What it's like to be me.

Always filled with deceit.

Who wants their receipt?

They say I need therapy.

Fix up the demons that live in me.

Their names are anxiety and depression.

God knows I've tried

To make my fire strong enough

To destroy what lives in my mind.

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