Personal Hell

It starts with an “I don’t feel well”

To rubbing your throat raw and red to stay home

To manually throwing up

All to avoid a creme colored hell

To avoid dark eyes 

Hellish gazes

Personal Monsters

A personal hell

Racking Up absence after absence

Filling the days with sad songs, salty tears 

And the mental promise 

Of “it will get better”

That turns into “one more day”

One day turns into 10

And soon you’ve missed out on your last few months

The time goes by

And you regret the moments that would have been

The idea of going back seems so enticing

But you won’t 

You can’t

It makes you feel so sickly 

To the point of nausea

The sickness one can feel until the point of medication

But it’s so ironic

How one could be such a star and fall to the ground

Like a meteor

So miserably 

Like one of God’s ‘fallen angels’ 

You want to go back

All it is 

Is one more day.

You promise your parent you’ll go the next day

You never do.

I never did. 

-Kxze♡