Text.

It’s like drinking acid,
Maybe.
The white hot pain in the chest,
And the cold hands,
And toes curling,
Ears throbbing,
Stomach churning.

It makes me sick in the stomach,
Like throwing up,
From the heart,
If that’s possible.
Please let me take it back,
Back to my room,
It was a bad idea,
I take it back,
Let me take it back.

Right at the last moment,
I’d think it might be a bad call,
But it’s to late for that,
So might as well see it through,
To the death.

It is,
I know it is.
The final blow,
To kill it all.
To end it all.
To put everything behind,
Out the windows,
Back to the real world.

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