Help me Help him
The smell of stale blood on my fingers is so strong I can taste it like the flavor of pennies in my mouth. I feel weak; dizzy. I'm sick to my stomach and my soul is crushed. My heart has imploded and my spirit undone. Happiness and joy have never been farther from my reach. It is not sadness or hopelessness but utter despair that rips at my throat and fills my eyes and threatens to rip my heart right out of my chest, leaving the gaping wound fresh open for the world to see. Grief overshadows me like a dark cloud following my every step. My heart is heavy and it drags along the floor when I walk. I have no desire, no energy, no motivation; the simplest of tasks seem impossible and unachievable, but yet my soul doesn't want to give in or give up. The tiniest desire in my groin begs my heart and soul to hold on; to push onward. I feel like an empty shell; like everything inside me was carved out and I just sit here slouched over, heartless, cold, empty. I want to cry my heart back