you are nothing

you are nothing.

why is it that the phrase that once mended
now holds ability to shatter the thin layer of reasoning
that clings to the inner walls of the scalp like
delicate film?

you are nothing.
you are nothing.
you are nothing.

the simple phrase has set my insides aflame,
sparking a blaze in which reason is corrupted,
melted,
and shattered;
pulsing throughout the body and trailing behind
the path of blood the heart distributes.

my pathetic
desperate
helpless
vessel
drills and contorts in rabid attempt to enforce exile
and thrashes pitifully for amputated shoulders,
red soaked papers,
and walls to encase its misery within.

the poor thing.