i cry in my bedroom. strangled by sheets that smell like smoke. i’m sorry if there’s still fire on my breath. i didn’t mean to inherit his temper. i said i’m not who i thought i would become. you said it wasn’t meant to be easy. but it should be easier by now. call a spade a spade. call a prayer a prayer. i’m drowning in my own bed. i’ll come up for air eventually. the walls are suffocating me now. i said i wish i was little again. you asked me what i’d say to my younger self if i had the chance. it gets better. it gets better. it gets better. you look at me like i’m a liar. well, you know how this goes. 

you know how this goes. no i have not made my bed in weeks. i cannot remember the last time i prayed before falling asleep. and i’m scared that might be the reason why every night i have a different reiteration of the same dream where i am screaming and screaming and nothing comes out. sometimes i remember to call out your name but i always wake up before i make a sound. let this be a prayer if not a plea, and a plea if not a poem. because god i just need someone to resurrect me before i kill myself trying.