The world,
a broken glass,
is bleeding me dry.
My red tears
scatter upon the shards
as I lick my numb lips.
I need to feel again
no matter how sweet or bitter
the taste may be.
I need to feel something
rather than always feeling nothing.
Reaching through the shards,
cold glass bites my hand
as I grasp another cup
to fill and to fill me.
With the red slipping down
along with pieces
of a world broken by madness,
I feel something.
Then, nothing.
The glass bursts apart
as my world crumbles
while I'm left alone,
realizing that it was I
that took the world down.
Now, I'm thirsty again.
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