Ms-Platypus

Blood stains dripping down my fingers as they rap upon harsh brick desperate for freedom confined to a stone prison built by my own hand. My mouth is open wide my lungs about to collapse yet no sound is heard. I can't breathe. Should I give up? Fall into the insanity? Let the loneliness take me? Am I too weak from running to actually fight the battle? Dear God! Do you hear me? Am I beyond your salvation? Are you even still listening? Is anybody still listening? Have I dug my own grave? Is this fate to die so young? All the color has dissipated. I fall to the ground, Breathless descending into the abyss. There is no hope, only failure, depress