I get her to wash the knife

so I don’t pop it into my flesh.

We go axe throwing

and I imagine the blade

sinking into my back

as I throw.

I reek of smells I do not know.

No answers.

Only questions floating inside aimless space;

wondering “when will I feel better?”

“When will I finally be better?”

--

--

I’m a young aspiring writer trying to figure out life. (She/her) Website: https://sites.google.com/view/halle-preneta/home

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