The world is on repeat and ur sitting numb with no outlet, no freedom, no life. A frozen shell of what you once were warmed only by strands of blood that bind ur arms. A body of scars is all you offer, presents no one wishes to receive. Steel has no feelings. Sharpness gives no empathy. Sleep heavy heads fall on wounded arms. Your bed is full of shattered memories, sharp like the blades in the sheets. Blood on the blankets and nobody cares. Pounding notes make a heartbeat in ur never rising ribs. Feel nothing but the cold, hear nothing but the music that ties u to the bed posts. Lay down to sleep, the blood will slow u soon. And u will wake up in a neverending stream of tomorrows