As those bullets hit your skin, the teardrops become more abundant.
As those sticks and stones hit your subconscious, your heart sinks more and more.
As those words hit your mind, you go back in time.
Back to the last time those ample tears dropped drip by drip.
Back to the last time such phrases hit so hard.

You wish it would end.
You wish it would all just get better.
You wish everything would go back to normal.
Or whatever normal is and was.

As those words reappear time after time,
Time after time you reappear back in your hole.
In your hole you wish to see clearly,
In your hole you wish to think clearly,
In your hole you wish to feel safe,
In your hole you wish to feel loved.

But not here
Safety is never near.
Love is far from here.

You think of all other alternatives to your happiness.
You carefully list them from what’s more likely to happen to what you wish would happen
You think about death,
You think about leaving,
You think about every and all possible solutions.

But you do not do a thing

You do not leave
You do not kill

But at one point, you thought of that one thing that has kept you here all along.
At one point, you thought of that one event that saves you every time.

And then everything is normal.

And then everything is back to its old patterns.

And then again, everything hits you like bullets on your skin.