A buzzing in my ear,
A voice that says, 
'you could end this'
'you don't have to keep going'
'imagine: never having to open your eyes again'

I swat at it, hastily chase it away,
No, not when there are small hands,
That need to go around me each night
Swat, swat, swat, swat them away

But I acknowledge the buzzing,
I see it looming around me,
Tempting me with the thought of release,

I could sew up the tears of course,
But it feels like old, worn, fabric,
It's split everywhere, gaping mouths,
Open in eternal despair,
Where do I begin? How do I pack it all in?

What's inside is too large to hold,
It pushes past toad eyes,
It saturates and exiles each hair,
It seeps tellingly into the skin,
It bulges into layers of excess,
It threatens to rip, it promises a kill

I hear the buzzing,
Maybe it won't kill me, maybe it will.