I've been living in silence for years
Through unspoken words and
Unshed tears I waited for
The words to flow, to go
From head to pen to paper
A trip they've made so many times before
A road they know, or knew
Until I met you.
You stopped the sadness that bred
The madness which inspired me,
Back when my words roamed free
And thoughts came alive in song.
For so long I hid behind a book
Without a second look at passersby
Content to live and die with only
Words besides me.
You came along like a summer storm
Out if nowhere, fierce and wild
Awakening the child that
Forgot how to laugh.
I never liked to force a line
But from time to time I grew tired
Of reason and rhyme and forgot
The simple beauty of a phrase
To help get me through the days.

How long should I sit here and pretend that I haven't wanted to end it for 17 years?
How long should I say 'I'm good' when I was just crying the bathroom ten minutes ago?
How long should I stare in the mirror and say 'Maybe I'll cut my hair tomorrow' knowing deep down I won't go for the next six months.
How long should I avoid the inevitable?
How long is too long?
How long can I look at this world, this society, and think that this is the type of world I want to live in?

You've only seen a glimpse of my world.
A glimpse of my hatred,
happiness,
sadness,
depression,
anxiety,
loneliness.

A glimpse of whatever I want to show you because I'm scared.
Scared of how you'll see me when I sob on the ground because I've dropped a plate.
And yes, it may be just a plate but I've been so clumsy and tired.
Disturbed and discouraged by the voices.
The last thing I want to do is drop a ******* plate.

I'd be rattled if you knew that I can't function without pills.
I hate taking them because I can't feel,
But I don't want to hear anymore voices.
I don't want to be the usual freak on the street you know.

If you knew how hard it was for me to get out of bed you'd be surprised.
I only slept three hours last night but I was terrorized the whole time by my own personal demons.
I lay there with my eyes bloodshot and wide open, my body numb.
I want to get up, but what is there for me when I do?
Work?
Like I'd actually want to be there.

If you knew that people stared at me and thought I was hot until the scars adorning my body changed their minds.
And the whispers began.
"Oh my god..." "She's so ugly, such a freak." "******* emo's."
I don't go outside without long clothes anymore.
The only good thing is that I don't have to shave anymore.

I don't visit my family.
I haven't in the last 2 years.
They don't need to see the person I've become.
Even though they've helped made me this way.
And they never stop calling, and calling, and calling!
Can't they understand that I don't want to talk!?
Oh, yes!
Another ******* breakdown.
This time, I didn't drop the plate on accident.

I'm no good to anyone broken.
So I'd rather pretend to be fine and smile.
Than to let you in...
Than to let you see more than that glimpse of what is really *me.