I wish I could make things,
better.
I wish I -
why is this so.
Hard, I don't understand
why?

What was it about -
her.
Me. You. Said that I -  
I don't even.
Understand what -
I don't even know what,
I am going.
To.

Why did it,
have to be like.
This, I never.
We never -
could we just.
Try and. fix,
things. I don't.
I.
I don't, know.

I don't
know how to.
to, to -  
breathe.
I don't -

breathe.

I'm sorry, but how the hell is this my fault?

Something I've learned about people,
is that no-one really understands perspective.
Not everyone knows just how much **** I'm going through,
even though I try my best to help them understand.
And that it's no one else's fault.
And that it's OK for me to feel worse because of it.
Something I've learned about people,
is that you have to make a huge god-**** effort to get your point across.
Even though you could just as easily hold up a sign saying 'For ***** Sake, Help Me', most people are blind to it.
And that it's not that they don't care,
It's that they don't know how do deal with it.

Something I've learned about life,
is that it really isn't what it's cracked up to be.
Not everyone gets a good deal out of it, and not everyone can be happy, no matter how well off they are.
And that people don't mean to be oblivious,
And that even if you tell them that - they'll always forget.
Something I've learned about life,
is that everyone goes through ****.
Some people have it worse off than others, but everyone assumes that their **** was worse.
And that everyone needs to shut up and listen.
And that 'everyone' includes yourself.

Something I've learned about myself,
is that I can be so **** mean when I'm not careful.
That sometimes I just need to say it straight and not worry about the consequences.
And that sometimes, it's OK to cry.
And that I shouldn't be ashamed of that.
Something I've learned about myself,
is that I need to be aware of myself.
I should stop focusing on others, and start giving a **** about myself.
And that keeping it in is only temporary,
And that eventually, we all have to burst.

but what good does that do me?
None.
because I'm still a huge ******* mess.

You told me not to cry,
so I never will again.

I internalise my tears until they nearly overflow,
until I'm fit to burst,
and the strain could **** anyone who comes too close.
And pressed deep inside my heart,
those tears will turn to ice
that creeps like frost through my frozen blood.

And you ask me why my hands are cold.

Now I wont say I have a frozen heart -
because I'm not devoid of feeling.
But my lungs are tipped with ice
and my veins are the blue of frost,
the whites of my eyes are as weepingly white
as freshly fallen snow.
I don't know if I'm cold because of the weight I've lost
or whether I've just lost all of my heat.

I'm scared you'll warm my heart,
because I know that if you do
I wont be able to stop the tears from flowing,
and they'll never stop.

The ground is as cold as her hands are,
As cold as her tears in the snow.

This place, she calls it; The Weeping Willow,
Because all she ever does here is cry.

It's branches hang lovingly over her head,
It's leaves mirroring her hair over her face,
Mirrored by the water.

It's a wonder that the tree can even stand;
It's been watered with nothing but salt-water and heartbreak.


Surely something born from the broken
Should never be whole to start with.