Scraps of paper,
Wasted ink.
Used to to express my thoughts,
Because I find it hard to speak.

People tell me,
Keeping it to yourself doesn't help,
You're going to drive yourself to a breaking point.

It's a ******* story they all want to hear,
No one really ****** cares.

I depend on my strength,
I've built a fence,
I tell people things so they don't seek the depth.
I'm a perfect actress,
My makeup never wears,
With a smile and invisible tears.

I hurt for no reason,
I bleed from within,
My heart,
I swear it's in pieces,
Even the melodies can't mend it.

I fear I'm a disturbance,
But an essential one,
When I'm not needed,
I'm an unnoticed painting on a fading wall,
Lonely though surrounded by flies.

People say it'll be fine but I'm done with hope,
I want no company,
For with it my happiness elopes.

Though a few people form that symphony,
And my melodies can't resist them,
But they fade like the harmonies,
That once explored my mind.

Sorry to bore you,
But i ramble when I'm nervous,
And I'm nervous of what you're probably thinking of me.

I have OCD,
It makes me clingy,
It seeks perfection,
I see no trace of it within,
I know nobody's perfect,
But I at least want to be suitable,
Living maybe more than just adequately,
*For myself.

He said to me with swollen eyes,
"Heaven is better than this,
  So if there is no purpose for my living,
  Why delay my rapture. I love you,
  But I'm only going to Hurt you if I stay."

A peck on my lips,
"Go, run home!"
And he ran,
I yelled and cried,
He ran and ran,
I stood, so scared,
With tears in my eyes,
Gun shots in the air.

No one could help him.
"It wouldn't be suicide,"
The words he said echoed in my head,
"I'm just going to be in the wrong place,
At the right time."

I ran and ran,
Cried and cried,
I couldn't watch,
It was a blood bath,
A riot.

I ran home,
Ran and ran;
But home was where he was,
And I didn't know where that was.

I cried and cried,
And in that moment I was certain,
*My soul had died.