The urge

They ask him where he’s been
He’s been kinda of dead
He was half way under the moon
Somewhere in his head
The shadows greet him
And Sun awakens him
But nothing quite helps
Him feel alive within it
He misses the warmth
He misses his purpose
He struggles with the guilt
Of not being worth it
Struggles with the pain
Of being the one who made it
And being angry at the world
No longer helps him
Bandages won’t work
This pain won’t be healing
His skin is peeling
Mind left reeling
Fighting this urge
To hang from the ceiling.