doom as a tool
for sympathy, for comfort.
i starve for you attention,
touches and good words.
if mercy was a gift,
why does it feel like a curse to me?
everything you need to know,
are all my scars to watch them grow.
i'm drowning in my loss
and enjoy the way I'm gonna die,
each gasp haunted.
(give it all to me to wallow in it like a pig.)