Seven. By Ross e f Lombardi

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Seven.
By
Ross e f Lombardi
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60 seconds in
"I don't really want to talk."
"I'm ok"
"I don't want to talk about it"
"Honestly"
(I am not ok)
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Two moments on
"I'll just cover the basics."
"But not burden you."
"As I don't matter."
"I never did matter...
...I never could matter....
... and matter, I never will."
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Three and uncorking.
"This!" "THIS!" And "This!"
I'm Spewing Words
"That!" "THAT!" And "that!"
For I am 'This' needy, attention greedy, over-bearing, over-sharing twat.
.
Halfway between heaven and hell now and still falling.
Self-hate speech calling.
Tearless crying.
Dried eyed yet bawling.
.
Five up.
Ok I'm breathing calmer now.
I feel embarrassed.
But you comfort me with constant "oks, "it's fine"
...and despite myself I feel 'valued'.
I hate myself A bit less now.
Thanks for caring.
So, Sorry for being SO annoying.
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Six slices gone.
Winding down now.
Saying polite goodbyes.
Me Apologising.
Relaxing.
Saying slow Fairwells and stalling.
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Seven!
Seven minutes of your time.
It was not a cure
It did not magically fix it all.
I am still sad.
But I No longer want to harm myself.
So, thank you for listening.
Thank you for noticing.
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Thank you for calling.
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