Four walls, sixteen pills
zero words and thirty pounds
counting and stamping, 
stopping and starting
too much or too little
overdosing or starving
and to get out of a cycle
it’s about letting go 
but I can’t stop counting
as long as we know
I write simplistically
pathetically; in a vague attempt
at garnering sympathy
every curse and every drink
a whisper, a shout of –
I am lonely 
I am orphaned;
just love me


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