Rotting Away At Myself

Am I a casualty of my own self?

I can feel the grinding of my own bones inside of me,
they’re rubbing together,
every step forward is painful.

I feel like this is my own fault.

I look like a corpse,
my skin is turning pale, muddled, and purple,
and my eye bags are sinking further into my skull.

Pessimism is bubbling up to the surface like bile.

I don’t feel like I belong here,
I want to scratch way at myself until there’s nothing left,
I’ll tear into my skin before this can overtake me.

Just because I know that I shouldn’t doesn't mean that I won’t.

I’m going straight to hell after I leave here,
but maybe I’ll fit in there just right,
and I’ll finally be able to remove this mask of normality.

Or it could be that I was never meant to exist in the first place.

I did this to myself.