Uncertainty sneaks in at night,
Fear and doubt and shaky hands.
Bones and skin and broken futures.
Early sleep, not one bit temporary.
Darkness hits me all at once,
I know I don't have long to be
Here.

In the daylight, I don't have to question
My own self destruction.
It's as easy as breathing,
As mindless as dreaming.
I tear away at my heart, my skin,
My blood, my head, the body I'm in.
I feed myself by a single thread,
Killing as though I long to be dead.
It's gradual, not really there,
'I'm fine, ok, I promise, I swear.
This is what I want, what I need,
What I long to long for, what I live, what I breathe.'
Daylight hides my translucence,
Impermanence.
My frail heart cowers from the sun.

But within the dark, I know I'm done.
I can't hide, can't fight, can't run.
No more. Not a minute.
I'll soon be finished,
vanished,
Gone.

(But I don't want to be finished,
I never wished for this,
I want to live till
My hands are worn with time,
Till I've seen a million miles,
Till I've traveled to Paris,
To London, to Spain,
Till I've lived through love and cried through pain.
Till I've written stories of faraway places,
Till I've read my way through countless days.
I'm not done yet,
Don't erase me,
Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.
I need
More
Time.)