...
     "This isn't who you are."

    "You're not the girl I used to know."

   "I don't know who you've become."

He repeats these lines
So much these days
It annoys me more than
A broken record ever could
Ever should
Ever would
Cause I told him
I warned him thoroughly

     "I'm not nice."

    "You won't like the real me."

   "I'm not worth fighting for."

But he didn't listen
He filled my head with empty
Promises that he meant
He filled my heart with hollow
Vows that he could never fulfill

     "How can a person be so cold?"

    "How can a lady be so cruel?"

   "How can you change so fast?"

He looks hurt and
I hurt a little
But I shut down
Cause that's what I always do

     "I'm nefarious, lover."

    "Had my heart broken a few times."

   "Now it's made of stone."

Tonight I took a risk
And once again sliced my wrists
But instead of five I did ten
And little blood came out when
I pressed a little harder
And the blade cut a little farther
I looked like a tiger with it’s stripes
And I’m willing to face all the gripes
You’ll probably leave me when you see my scars
Because you’ll realize all the harm
It stings a little but still feels good
You didn’t understand and you never would
You can’t handle a basket case
To you I’m just a waste
Let’s see how they look tomorrow
Because tonight they filled me with sorrow
They didn’t bleed like I’d hope
Maybe next time I’ll try the rope
I’m a ***** up and don’t deserve life
I argue with myself about what to do and with which knife
I lay here now wrists stinging
The sandman with sleep he’s bringing
I’m upset at myself more than you are at me
So don’t yell or use harsh words during your plea
I’m sorry for what I’ve done
There is nothing more I can do, none
Maybe it’s more than ten
I stopped counting around then
You’ll leave me tomorrow I know it
Whether or not I refuse to show it
The scars will still remain
And you’ll think of me with cruel disdain
Hate me for all I care
This heavy cross I’ll always bare
Give me another reason to hate my soul and body
Give me another bad habit to proclaim as a hobby
I’m an artist by nature and I paint with my blood
And when I’m done my sharp edged paint brush will drop with a thud
I don’t care anymore and I wish life was simpler
I suppose T.S Elliot was correct: this is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper

I am what I am
a man with no plan

but I don't understand?
  you don't have a plan

I don't have a plan
what's to understand?

What about your hopes and dreams?

I just dont know I screamed!
Why do I need dreams to succeed
and what is success anyway?
Why can't I just live my life at play

because you have to take things seriously

seriously, but why?

Imagine all the regrets you will have when you die

regrets about not having a plan?
but what if I die before I can fulfil my plan
now its me that doesn't understand
how can I write a story
if its constantly unfolding
it sounds kinda boring
to already know the ending
I would much rather sing
and why do I need a career path
when I would much rather laugh
all this planning seems so daft!

But you have to be a responsible adult

you mean like a banker that steals?
or a soldier that kills?
or a politician that lies?
or a butcher that cuts up animals with knives?

no! no! those are just the extremes!
you got to have dreams!

I do dream
of being free
of being me
no judgements
no labels
just what you see

But what about a vocation?
a location?
somewhere to hang your hat!

life is a vacation
I don't need none of that!

look I am what I am
a man with no plan
you don't have to understand
as long as you can
can what?
just can.

We are all following footsteps in the dirt
all hiding from the hurt
just running scared
they told us to be prepared
but prepared for what?

How can you prepare for the unknown?
for who knows what grows from the seeds we sow
the future is uncertainty
when dealing with reality
all plans are futility
as we free-fall to gravity
through the clouds
its all just sights and sounds.

Beyond every horror and darkened room
just round the corner death does loom
but death is nothing, what ceases to exist
how can you be scared of nothing, why do you resist?
One day those footsteps will suddenly end
and there will be no reason left to pretend
in that moment it will all be clear
that the footsteps you were following was actually fear.