It’s that time of the day again,
Oh forgive me, it’s almost night
Alas what difference is left,
as both laze into one, none, God what is this sight
Of myself, lying dead but for that one finger scrolling, scrolling, scrolling mindlessly with a mind frozen in time
It’s like hypnosis, its total control over my mind
There is deep down this nagging urge
crying to end my voluntary pain,
the one I so fondly hate,
that I indulge in it everyday,
every night, for hours on end
I beg from within for some respite
My eyes start to burn, my head feels like its splitting in half,
Now, even my fingers can feel the heat of my slow killer
I muster the residue strength to throw it down,
before the guilt and regret start to spread like poison
The realisation hits,
It turns to frustration, to resignation, to panic, to anxiety,
until you close your eyes and wait for the pain to go, bit by bit
I’m tired now, of this, of myself, of everything…