Why do you want me to fall?
Romanticizing illnesses.
Freakishly, pushing me off the edge
of my final call.
The suicidal ball
of yarn unravels
ethereal escapes
to run down in case of fire.
As the one I admire
eyes another option
of solitude-
despite gratitude.
Altruistic cries
in the depths of lies,
believed by fields
of frivolous buys.
Another day, another dollar spent.
I’m Spent.
