Vincent-Love42

When you want to kill yourself make it a butterfly suicide, spin the chrysalis over your wounds and bleed, bleed, bleed– bathe in the cocoon of your exsanguination sweat, soaking, sealed. Gift the murder weapon to your inner Marie Kondo; she’ll greet and thank the house before carving up the clutter, leaving what sparks joy. Moth wing flutter kicks up cobweb dust long since settled; let the darkness be drawn in to the flame, burn it all as fuel for a new future.