My thoughts are demented,
completely dark,
more than just tempted
to leave more than a mark
on my fragile body.

Painful pleasures
given to a mind rotting
reassures
that blood's the only thing I've to lose.

So I'll float in the air
not needing shoes
just to see who cares
if I actually leave.

Would people cry?
Would their stomach's heave
at the news that I died?
Would they care at all?
Was I more than a person?

No, just an abused animal
praying to not be hurt again
and wondering what it'd be like
if one day I disappeared
without so much as a goodbye.
And all the things I had before feared
would not hurt me any more.