Swamp Thing. The Youth Is Sick. Damn You. Zeneszám

Word for word we can tear into
ourselves.
Scared to speak.
All
my words fall short like a brick
to your chest.
Lost again.
Mind
can't stop turning.
I'm too
scared to react.
Thought this
was the last time.

Why am I
still lying in all these
traps?
How do I still know where
my heart is at?
Why am I still
lost and given up?
Why can?t I
curl up and die?