there is something in my stomach.
there’s something in my stomach.
someone help get it out.
they cant, obviously.
of course they cant, i can. i can.
its hurting me.
someone do something.
a hug, a mother, a family.
it wont stop hurting me.
not since last week.
or maybe a year ago is more accurate.
or maybe it’s why i was born screaming.
only sleep and books stop it churning inside me.
the words dont sound right when i say them,
so how do i say them?
how do i say, theres a thing in my stomach, and its not really there,
but it’s clawing its way around me.
how can i convince them, myself, my mother,
that its really there.
that its not just loneliness.
that i am not lonely, eternally.
because i cant be,
i cant be.