self destruction.

A big black E marks the place where I lay alone at night. E for empty, which is what I've been for some time now. Longer than I originally thought. Right now is when I need saving the most, but the sad thing is I know no one is coming. No one is coming. And the saddest thing is the hope that hides under my skin, faint and sickly. Half dead and being swallowed by hate. Hate for Self. Why I decided to live in self destruction, I may never know, but here I am pulling down lights and peeling off skin and breathing underwater until I'm dragged down to the bottom with my hair floating silently like a rope. Waiting for someone to come, but no one will come. No one is coming.