dear psychiatrist, here's your fucking letter:

i fell from the top and now im failing

i used to scream about how much i wanted to get better

now my body is an assailant and my recovery derailing


i used to write so eloquently and rehearsed,

rhyme scheme and synonyms a second language

now the words spill out, not at all well versed

i know im long gone but still i want to believe I'll be like Carthage


so many watched me fall with a gleeful expression

a girl who had it all now a weak, useless bitch

a girl being suffocated by depression

they watch me burn like a witch


on my stake I'm still reaching out

offering my scorched hand in case you need a friend

my heart beats to help, so embarrassingly devout

reaching out to those who watch me burn, til the very end