I couldn’t tell you why right now, I have crumbled into a heap,

Into pieces, shaking and wondering where to go from here.

I’m crying for things that are out of my reach,

Advising others yet falling speechless when it comes to myself.

A need for time alone is mistaken for depression.

A need for my lover is mistaken for lust.

A need for rest is mistaken for laziness.

A need for anything is called a want.

A need for anything makes me a glutton.

I stare at the stains and try to blur them into everything else.

I get fuzzy images with faint spots that now barely stand out.

The rain continues and I wonder

How much longer I can go before I’ve been washed away,

And if I will be stained with my own blood or someone else’s?