The sand bag of my body
Leaks through tears on the sides
When I cry at night
Stone chips rest on my chest
They collect one by one
Clink, clink, clink
Seconds tick inside aloud

My sack is a shroud
That I sewed for myself
Threads made out of
Agonising hate
I’m cemented to the floor,
I need some help
I want to get back up.

Should I wait for the bulldozer to arrive
On some time even gloomier than this?
I’m perhaps already laughing at myself
On the other side of the pain
In moments of bliss and disbelief.
I don’t need help, please.