my skin was once a clear canvas, with beautiful thoughts, ideas, and creations but as my mind grew darker into the nights
i cried alone and I started to think about the endless possibilities,
i started to realize that my life was just an illusion and in reality we're all just broken, alone, and looking for someone to fix us.
but no one could fix me; i couldn't even fix myself
so i picked up that blade and started to draw pictures on that canvas
that was once so beautiful
and i didn't stop.
now it is now filled
with tragic pictures
from the nights
i understood life
at it's worst

number 1: i use humor as a defense mechanism so don't be surprised when you try to show me the galaxies inside your lungs and i laugh like you only have one constellation per breath.

number 2: my OCD will drive you absolutely mad because i can never seem to wash the world off my hands and i'll obsess wondering if i locked the door on my way out.

number 3: these days my smiles are so forced i fear they may resemble that of a serial killer.

number 4: i say "i'm sorry" a lot as if i'm dowsing you in holy water while dropping to my knees praying for forgiveness, that will get old and eventually you'll stop believing in me.

number 5: i have trust issues that run so deep i don't even believe the voices in my own head.

number 6: self medicating has become my only form of survival, you can't help me and i can't help myself.

number 7: i lost faith in myself when i realized faith had no interest in me.

number 8: it won't matter how many times you hurt me i will always come back.

number 9: when you get too close i will leave you with fractured bones from trying to grip you too tightly.

number 10: someone once said "never fall for someone whose palms cause earthquakes on your skin, they'll look you dead in the eye and tell you they don't give a **** and will go back to trying to kiss your pieces back together" i'll let you break me.