I thought for sure;
I had it planned out.
I was going away,
I was fading out.

The light was gone,
from my eyes,
from my soul.
Hope had carried on,

to someone who was willing to hold it close.

"I got a Job!"
I thought that was great.
Wasn't it good enough for you?

"You work where? What a shame.
But I guess it suits you."

So what if it's the Dump?
Its a job someone's gotta do.
besides,
someone has to clean up after snobs like you.

So I do.

But I admit,
you had me going.
You got me down this time.

Which is funny because I thought,
family was supposed to help you through the grime.

But no,
you put me here.
because time and time again,

you kept telling me I was worthless,
and that I'd never fit in.

But you lied.

My friends there are like a family,
they all stand up for me.
They treat me how I should be:
like a fucking human being.

You almost made me kill myself.
That should make you fucking sick.
But I think that the anger
gives me an extra kick.

It makes me realize,
that not everyone is like you.
There's still some decent people,
and before I wouldn't have thought it true.

But there, I met two people,
who've truly shown me the way,
that the way to live my life,
is to fuck what people say.

I'm happy being me,
and I'm happy I met you,
because now I'll live forever,
just so I can fucking smite you.

And I'll be happy.

I'm sitting here
in constant fear
of events
that are to come.

Warning signs
ring clear as chimes
and my body's going numb.

There's darkness at the edges,
of my vision
and my mind.

And this darkness truly comes for me
to take me home this time.

"You've been running for too long"
it says
"just stop and take a break."

but I know its just a ploy;
my living soul's at stake.

So I run.

I'm running through a labyrinth,
full of broken bones.
Following a winding path
full of empty homes.

I recognize these places;
they're from my recent past.
They're people who have helped me,
but they left me pretty fast.

I have no one else to turn to.
and no where else to go,
so why do I keep running?
My feet, they start to slow.

I've come upon the end
of this horrid maze of bones,
and here's to my efforts:
I have nothing to show;

except my scars.

Like a poison fog,
creeping around the edges of my vision
this is the final stand.

I know if I get lost
wandering around in this stark nothingness.
I will not come out.

I know if the sadness takes hold,
this time,
the damage will be permanent.

I'm sick and tired of the fighting.
And of fighting battles.
that I can't win.

I

feel

like

I

break

every

fucking

thing

I

touch.

Can nothing release me
from your shadow,
that I live in?

Can nothing warm my heart
and my soul?

I search within myself,
and find nothing
but self hatred.

And a longing
to cut out the parts of me
that I hate.

Your shadow engulfs me;
is there no escape?

I miss you.
More than I've missed anything
in my entire life.

Why did you go,
when I needed you most?
When I needed
your reassurance,
that life will not take me
to more dark places.

How do you let go of the dead,
when they're still fully alive,
in our hearts?

A start
with no end.
A promise
with no truth.
The end
is certain.
It always comes
around.

I don't even know where I went so wrong,
but all I know is that it's been so long
since I've been able to get out of this mist
it seems that I just can't coexist

with depression.

Depression's like a fog
that comes rolling in
and it turns into a bog
and sucks me in.

I'm up to my neck
with pain,
everyday.
There isn't one single way
to get away.

It stalks you
in every corner of your life.
And the only way to handle it
is with a fucking knife.

But that's not a solution.
It's temporary respite,
from not feeling down
and crying all night.

It's like a warm gentle sigh
that releases the hurt,
but in the end I realize,
I'm still face down in the dirt.

I can't keep going on this way,
the pain is just too much.
And drugs don't help in any way,
they're not even a crutch.

Antidepressants feel like,
they take my life away.
I no longer feel happiness,
or can react in any way.

They fill my head with nothings!
So why does the label say:
"Used to help depression,
and help you feel okay."

I feel like I don't exist!
Much less a human being!
I look into the mirror
and can't believe what I'm seeing.

I don't recognize my face,
my body or my hands
I just walk around because
that's what they demand.

Am I going crazy?
I don't even know.
even if I was,
my body couldn't tell me so.

I just don't know what to do,
what to say,
or who to talk to.

But I know I'll find a way,
if someone could tell me I'm okay.

Hate
is an inaccurate word.
I want you to die.

I feel like I should save you,
because I've been there,
because I've done that.

But who am I to save you?
can't even save myself,
and I hate that.

I feel as though I know you;
because I feel like you're a mirror.
I'm staring at myself;
my reflection's getting clearer.

I fell down again today,
I thought I was done for sure.
All the pain and sadness,
dropped me straight to the floor.

I felt like a fucking brick,
made of lead,
tied to an anchor;
and someone decided
to drop me,
into a sea of misery.

I thought for sure
"I can't do this,
I can't take it anymore."

But I swear to god,
I heard your voice,
and I got up off the floor.

I swear,
you were there,
and the weight lifted once more.
I know,
you were there;
it didn't hurt anymore.

Thank you.

I need help.
I'm so lost.
Life has me so weighed down
that I don't know
up from down
or left from right.
My words get stuck in my throat and
every day is a constant fight
that I just
cant
seem
to win.

I'm damned if I do
and I'm damned if I don't,
what I'm about to say,
well,
don't think I won't...

Don't think I won't have the strength to go on,
because it's all in your perspective.
Don't think I won't have the courage to stand strong,
in the face of all my Demons.
Don't think I won't have the Mentality to know,
when someone's trying to break me.
Don't tell me I won't have the Will to fight,
when I'm faced with life or death.

Sometimes I know
that I feel so weak,
that I think it's time to end it.
But that's because,
I live in a house,
that would love to see me quit.

I won't let them.

Nerve endings ignite,
in a colossal implosion,
of never ending thoughts,
possibilities, and heartache.

Weightlessness consumes me
until the pain slowly ebbs;
but I wake up,
and hell resumes.

Why is the truth
so hard to come by?

What have I done to deserve
to lose my guiding light?
It's harder now than ever,
every day's a constant fight.

I'll never get to see you,
to thank you for all you've done.
I'll never get to meet you,
my brightly shining sun.

Your words have got me this far,
you've pushed me down this road,
and I don't feel like I've ever
owed as much as I do owe,

I owe you for your courage,
your strength to hold me tall
despite being on edge,
always about to fall.

I don't think many knew that,
you kept it in quite well.
Only once or twice it seems;
that's all you ever fell.

But in the end it's anger.
It consumes us all.
Anger is the one to blame;
the one to make you fall.

You never should have been there,
on that fateful night,
when you flew across the pavement,
flung far from your bike.

You never should have been there,
she begged you not to go.
But instead you took the low road,
but instead; you said no.

What was on your mind?
Did you know it would be your last?
Your last thoughts as a human,
and they were racing fast.

Why couldn't you slow down?
Why didn't you go home?
You were drunk and you knew it!
You didn't have to roam.

You should have stopped to think,
about your daughter and your wife.
You should have stopped to think
about your very life.

You were more than just one person,
you were an idol, proud and tall.
But you were more than just an icon;
you were a friend to all.

A friend in times of need,
in times of darkness and despair,
a friend in times of tragedy;
someone who's always there.

Now I'll never get to thank you...
but we all make mistakes.
It just sucks that we're so fragile
that one choice is all it takes.

All it takes to end a life,
whose voice reached across all Nations.
All it takes to end a life
with many dreams and aspirations.

But in the end,
there's a reminder.
Your voice; it still lives on.

In the end,
you are still with us.
You'll never be truly gone.

Because your words were filled with power;
screamed from an aching heart,
your words have changed the world,
and this is just the start.

I know it's scary,
but everything will be alright.

These words mean so much,
that you're still my guiding light.

These same four walls remind me
that my friends have all moved on,
and these same four walls remind me,
that the road I walk is long.

These same four walls remind me
of how easily I weep,
and these same four walls remind me
of how little I find sleep.

These same four walls remind me
that they're a cage around my heart,
and these same four walls remind me
that my life has come apart.

But these same four walls remind me
that walls can be knocked down.
And these same four walls remind me
that you can smile, or choose to frown.

Priests are a plague,
whispering of false Deities;
that tear us apart.

Christianity teaches you to hate;
thyself, thy neighbor,
and thine own world.

and you still go to Hell.

Christianity is a Plague,
preaching to us about
a pathetic excuse of a God,
who gave us free will,
and now hates us for having it.

Christianity is a Plague,
preaching to us how we should
feel
act
worship.
How we should
forgive
forget
and repent.

No matter what,
Christianity is a Plague
whose morals preach nothing but self hatred.

Christianity teaches you;
You cannot be happy without God.
You are nothing without God.
No matter how much you try to appease God;
You can't.
No matter how hard you try to be devout,
you cannot accomplish it.

Christianity teaches us,
that when we die,
Hell is inevitable,
unless you're a Saint.

Christianity teaches us,
that everything we do is bad,
we are incapable of good,
we are all Damned.

Unless we give up everything that makes us Human,
God shuns you and Damns you and doesn't look back,
because we are sinners.

Christianity teaches us that we are sinners,
we are nothing but sinners,
and we have to hate all sinners.

So why does no one see,
that we waste our money,
on a Pious Plague,
instead of spending
on something that can actually make a difference in the world.

So much
hate
despair
war
famine
lies
hurt
and malice

could have been avoided,
if we actually spent time
trying to fix things
instead of trying to believe in someone
who clearly doesn't give a fuck about us.

This canvas so pale,
is so frail and so jailed,
inside a mind that screams
and wails.

The canvas is perfect,
besides old scars,
that I choose to reopen
and enjoy the stars;

that I feel in my head
when the canvas turns red,
such a stark contrast
between living and dead.

I don't know why I can't stop slicing,
I need the rush to feel okay.
I don't know why the rush keeps climbing,
I need it more every day.

Shining scarlet kisses...
who am I to keep them away?

Depression
holds you with an iron grip;
one so unrelenting,
and so cold to the touch,
that it dulls even the warmest of feelings.

Depression
steals all joy from the moments,
you wish you could re-live,
because you never came
to fully appreciate the life you live.

Depression
tries to stop you,
from getting away,
from loving,
from smiling,
from living.

But Depression,
is not terminal,
is not unmanageable,
is not forever.

Depression
is something you can beat,
and your scars will forever be trophies;
a reminder of what you've survived.