322nd Post

Exhausted.

What remains of my energy ebbs away.
In the form of little drops.
The old wounds are once again torn wide open.

The laughter echos along the empty corridors.

I wonder.
What is there to laugh at.
Or is it because its a form of mental escape.

A temporary cover up.
For the depression that runs deep.

I'm falling.
But will i ever reach the bottom?

And even if i eventually do.
Will i be able to climb out?

Or is this my end?

Lost to a dagger.
That pierces my heart.

And the blade slowly twists itself.
Over and over.

And the nails pierce the wrists.
In a form of crucifixion.

Wrists which were already torn open.
By the blade.