Weeds.

 

my mind is secretly plotting against me

planning my demise

planting seeds

that say that



it’d be nice to sleep

and not wake up



and growing into

things like



it’d be nice

to end it all

the madness

it’d be nice

to be frank



to die



but it’s kinda my fault

im a victim

but im also an accomplice

in this crime against myself



i help water the flowers

i help give them sunlight

till one day

i look to see a garden

full of weeds

weeds that have killed all my flowers

there is nothing but those weeds


nothing

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