I Don't Even Know

I'd be much cuter if they all just let me drown.

Simple as is I can't scratch off these cretins, these bugs that crawl on my skin. Reminding me of a pain in my past that made this hollowness pass.

Why would I wish this upon myself? People question, they look at me and assume. Assume i'm in good health, assume i'm happy, they assume they assume they assume.

I casually roll restlessly and ache in knowledge that things from me are missing. I don't know what but I can feel it in my bones.

My writing seems increasingly dark. Where did the good go?

I Don't Even Know You But Would You Let Me Drown?

I Don't Even Know You But Could You Knock Me Out?
I Don't Even Know You But Could You Spare Some Time?