Locked in a room like a tomb to fall from bed to sickness and no one to witness this mess I'm left with. And you thought this moment was just a tickle in your throat, an itch on the roof of your mouth. So cut off the ead and laugh like a smile. Are you here? Is this the way all stories end? Believe me dear? I'd rather swallow tassles than tacks. My ideas are [bad word] on this cross. So thin and loose but these nails are slowly slipping through the boards. This gauze is stopping blood. This gauze is soaked twice through. Leaving us stained.