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by Laura Santos

I wear my skin

As some kind of coffin

My soul perishing inside

My hands stained red

from holding broken hearts


In a sea of madness

The bottom of the ocean

Holds enough oxygen for me

While bricks are tied to my feet

The only thing I try to do to stay afloat

Is fall asleep


And with exacerbation

Every day I wish we could trade places

Me? six feet under

You? six feet above where I lay


I’ve been fetishizing my lifeless body

I’ve been fantasizing about my death

Is it gonna be tomorrow?

Is it gonna be today?

Will I be in pain or find eternal rest?


The end of my existence is my hope

bleeding into these words

which conceive the wish

To gore out my soul

Bonding tightly, my neck with the rope

Laura Santos

Layout, Editor, Illustrator V13

"I'm in confusion"

Author's Note:


Having struggled with mental health issues for many years, it became a normal occurrence for me to live with repressed feelings. I joked around with suicide, raising concern among my friends and peers. With the support of the Urbana staff, I sought professional help and began recovering. My published work is meant to acknowledge and bring support to people that are 
coping with destructive thoughts. 
You, too, can find hope 
and stability.

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