sometimes I dream about how it used to be,
and whenever I do,
it’s always bittersweet

I used to think I’d achieve great things,
that I’d do well in life,
but here I am

sometimes I wish that I killed myself in seventh grade,
that would’ve saved a lot of things from happening,
it would’ve saved people pain

I used to think I was the smart kid,
the kid who had no problems,
but here I am

sometimes I break down,
almost like a robot with faulty wiring,
it’s exhausting yet refreshing all the same

I used to think I was nice,
the girl who was sweet to everyone,
but here I am

sometimes I wish I was never born,
so I didn’t have to endure this ****,
I’d rather be nonexistent than to live this

I used to think dying was scary,
I’d pray to God, asking him for another day of life,
but here I am

I'm tired of wanting acceptance,
just for them to abandon me,
leave me in the darkened streets,
nothing in sight, nothing to see

Perhaps I should forget them,
and start to work on me,
leave them in the flood of doubts,
no matter how much they plea

They never cared anyway,
no one cares about me,
I'll push them out and lock the door,
swallowing the key

You were supposed to be the one,
the one who saved me,
but you ran away crying,
you always seemed to flee

And now I am alone,
no one but me,
maybe I can take my mask off,
and finally be me

There was a time where I lost myself,
where I got stranded in the darkness,
the sea swallowing me whole

Its hands gripping at me,
desperate to keep me under,
for as long as possible

It was violating,
my skin was flaking off,
and the sea was licking it up

I was getting strangled,
the angels in the darkness,
they only watched and pointed

I was paying the price,
for what, no one knows

I prayed,
I prayed,
I prayed

And after months of being strangled,
of losing myself, repeatedly,
I still have the marks,
and I can no longer fully be myself

Sounds of static,
fill my head,
a constant buzzing,
a growing dread

Cheerful laughs,
gloomy smiles,
anxiety and depression,
building piles

A mask, I wear,
to hide the old me,
few have met him,
few have the key

I hate myself,
though no one knows,
they only see my screen,
a happy face shows

I’m ashamed of who I am,
and the mask that I wear,
the things that I’ve done,
and the things that I’ve shared

No one can see my pain,
and honestly, I’m okay with that,
no one needs to worry,
to think I’m but a spoiled brat

My mask is my lore,
my mind, impaired,
my heart, fractured,
but I’m okay, I swear

How long has it been?
The world has been hazy,
my life, a mother to crazy,
so much so, my only escape is solitude and a pen

Small scripts of literature,
written nicely in fine print,
the words speaking in glints,
as they shine upon the ceiling

All was perfect and fine,
it was as if God was calling,
the letters, sprawling,
emitting the smell of wine

A sweet scent, it was,
blurring my smell,
enhancing my sight,

Though as soon as it had started, it was over,
no more words on the walls,
no more letters down the halls,
it was dark once again

And as I glance upon the book,
words upon words are blurred,
letters upon letters, deterred,
and thus my changed outlook