My balloon is black
As black as night
Filling me with dread
A horrible feeling
That I'm sadly used to
I can see it now
The future of my black balloon
It is taken ahold of
By an evil being
And popped
I thought I felt bad before
But now it's much worse
Much worse
Much worse
It's so much more than dread
It's temptation
I'm tempted to end it all
But I can't seem to get out of bed
My body doesn't want to move
It's ironic how my depression
Is what saved my life
For another day
Another day
Another day
But it's getting harder
Harder to move
And harder to resist these  temptations
I'm about to pop
Like a balloon
A black balloon
My black balloon

Like an Autumn leaf,
I must learn to fall a little
if I ever want to rise.
Let the wind take me places
I've never been before.

the ringin g in          my              he ad       doe snt stop
it                   is                              so            lou d
a const a nt              dea d           s i lent  soun d
              eee e e e e e e e e  e  e    e            e          e           e             e                            
                          e e                      e ee                                     e e

         b                          w w aa                 a         a               a       a        
   a                        a                          ­ a    a                         a  
                                         w         a  a  
                   a            a                    a        a        a            ­  a               a  b      b


i   fe el               w eightl es s
im no t            m y se lf                                                          
p l ease          le ave         m e                                alo ne

  i wa n t                 t o                       be                       f ree                                  
  i t                hurt s                                      so mu ch
                             

i ca nt                                   h ear                    
i      am n ot                                         m e                  
i dont wa nt to            c ry
a     ny                                               mor e
                 i    m    sor ry

i h ad to  te ll the m
.


.


.



y                
                                        o      ­        
   u

                                 
     s      
                ­                                            h
                                o
                                                                ­                     u
                                     l
     d                                  
   n
                                                    t
         ­               
      h
                                                  a
                   v  
                                                             ­                                     e
                                                               ­     s
                  a
                                      ­            i
    d
  
                               m
y
                                                               ­                                             n
                  ­                                                  a
m      
     ­                             e

sometimes,
i smile at the mirror,
to remind myself that i can.
because i've forgotten what it feels like.

sometimes,
i spend hours repeating the same phrase in my head,
just to make sure it sounds right.
"hi... could i please have the-"
it never does.

sometimes,
i stare at the crimson lines on my wrists,
and try to convince myself that they're beautiful.
no one else thinks that though,
so why should i?

sometimes,
i check my pulse,
because i need to know that life is temporary.
i need to know that one day it'll be over.

sometimes,
i stare at my reflection,
but i don't recognize the girl looking back at me.
why is she so broken?
she follows me like a ghost.

sometimes,
the time passes so slow,
that a minute feels like a day,
and i wonder if it'll ever end.
will it ever end?

sometimes,
i wake up with tear stains on my pillow,
blood soaked sheets.
i don't remember though.
regret is not an easy feeling to deal with.

sometimes,
i watch mouths move in front of me,
but the screams in my head take up too much space.
so i hear nothing.
"can you repeat that please?"
"sorry."

sometimes,
my hands are raw and tired, scratched away to nothingness.
"how'd you get that burn?'
all i can say is that it was an accident.
was it?

sometimes...
sometimes a lot of things.
sometimes i wish i wasn't here.
sometimes my body doesn't feel like mine.
sometimes i want to cut the pain out of my body.
is that possible?
sometimes.