Decaying

An inner monologue with struggling with depression.

My heart is slowly bleeding. 

The blood is pouring out of wounds,

I made by myself. 

The lungs in my chest are starving.

Oxygen is leaving,

because I can't take another breath. 

The ducts beneath my eyes are dry. 

Tears don't fall,

I've cried too much. 

Bones in my fingers don't work.

They've eroded away,

I've worked them to hard. 

Acid in my stomach burns my throat.

Any words I had are gone,

they've melted and I choke on them.

The warmth in my bed is depleting.

My body can't produce heat,

I've spent too long in the cold.

The voice all around me are quieting.

Sounds are vanishing,

All I can hear is a dying heartbeat.

It's fluttering, that's all. 

Kicking, fighting, trying to hold on.

The life in me is small.

It's hardly beating. 

The thoughts in my head are leaving.

My world is drifting away,

everything I am and was is dead and dying.