The growling of my stomach reminds me I'm alive.

Over and over relapse after relapse, when will my body finally collapse?

Not eating for days, is it from the depression or for the control?

The control that I cannot grasp so I try harder and harder
as my heart beat gets softer and softer.

Never will I be thin enough but I can sure try if I can't control my mind, why not the size of my thighs.

Summer twenty-eighteen, five days of no food, five days of stumbling upstairs and stumbling from the hall to my room.

Falling in the shower, black spots in my vision.

Fall of twenty-eighteen, trying to recover, but now I scream in the spring.

In my mind, I yell not to eat hoping to control the storm of insecurities in my head.

I listened to your words like they were the rush of nicotine I crave.

I listened to you as you played victim to your own crimes.

Your crimes against me.

Cheated and bruised I still relied on you.

My reliance on you was like my cigarette addiction.

I craved you, I wanted you, sometimes needed you, but in the end, you were cancer in my lungs just like the smoke.

Soon enough you broke, under the pressure of cleaning up the mess you made.

The mess you had made of me.

You left pieces of me scattered throughout the yard of an old house where the memories of your lips on my skin lie.

The memories of the promises you shattered while you left bruises on my heart and skin.

I sit in the dark corner of my bed. No spark of light in my head. My thoughts like a hurricane

Scratching at the body that no longer feels like mine your hands on my wrists and thighs taking my light.

Once bright and filled with joy, now feeling like a toy
you did what you pleased while I could only freeze.

too young to know what it was for sure, old enough to know it wasn't right.

Six years old there goes the light.

Maybe I shouldn't still hurt, but it still rushes through my mind like a strong current.
It's been ten years, the nightmares making me scream.

Years have gone by and I still cannot dream.

That man still has no idea what he took from me or what I received.

He gave me anxiety, recurring nightmares. Pushed the demons to visit me while I sleep.

New nightmares have arrived from that night some taking my breath till I lose my fight.
Staying up all hours of the night.

Sixteen now, where is the light?

Fourteen told one soul. He broke the strength I had gathered. With an iron fist, it was shattered.

bestowed with trust he ****** into a form of intimacy I wasn't ready for ultimately.

Pressured and manipulated into acts that shouldn't have been done.

Now he visits the nightmares.

Sitting in the dark corner of my bed pulling the hair from my head.
The walls screaming at me telling me what he stole from me.

My room is no longer a room it is a cell that keeps me caged.
Allowing my demons to point and laugh at my desperate attempt to swim.

to swim from the grim blackness that flows from my bones.

The room that once saw my light now lets it take
flight.

Migrating to warmer places while this winter storm rips me to pieces

There Goes The Light

I fill my lungs with smoke.

Hoping one day I'll choke and the breath will leave my lungs.

This breath is what everyone wants me to hold onto. Just as I want to hold on to the hope that is slowly dispersing.

Dispersing through the air. I lay bare.

My fears, lies and , truth come to life.

Surrounding me.

Screaming filling my lungs with smoke.

Telling me to choke.

Everything is numb, my heart beating in my ears like a drum.

It hurts to breathe, as I slowly lose sense of reality and everything is a blur.

As the tears fill my eyes, the corrupt thoughts leaking out through them,

I feel the numbness leave and all the pain hit at once.

A storm of thoughts fall from my eyes I watch my self die.

Every ounce of light being drowned by the black ink,

harboring all the unreasonable pain and anxieties that lay dormant in my head.

Feeling forgotten and pushed aside by all who matter,

I can’t help but to feel as useless as an empty platter passed around at a party

Everything matters, but nothing pulls me to care.

Everything hurts as I try to heal the bleeding wounds holding me captive in my own hell.

Sitting and letting the pain grow.

I shouldn’t hurt this much. I’ve no reason too.

But the demons in my head say I deserve it.

Nightmares and anxiety, sleeping too much or sleeping too little.

Always tired it’s inevitable.

Tired of living, tired of trying, tired of everything.