Five fingers clenched on each hand, nearly ripping my hair out,
Four little crescent shaped wounds on my palms,
Three strikes almost down,
Two piercing screams not nearly loud enough to drown the whispers in my head,
One last chance to back away from what seems like a winding staircase for Persephone.
And for some goddamned reason I take it. Over and over and over again. I wonder when I’ll finally run out of reasons.
//tick tock, tick tock