time ticks violently at me;

the sharp claws that circle my wrist,

the numerous pain that I felt

when i slipped into your hands.

my soul believed that the thick line could be your smile,

i believed what wasn't genuine,

the ropes that tightly hold me

on the ground.

silly poet, believed you would

text and bring back the fainted

memories.

i was hurting,

i'm hurting and i

wish you saw how

deeply my wounds

have asked to be healed;

thus, they remain the same,

my friend.

the thunder that strikes against my heart, waits for your delicate hands,to lift me up from the ground, but instead,

i see poison;

trickling down your fingers into mine.