First level was simple denial,
I argued with myself for awhile,
counted each and every bathroom tile
while I waited until sedated so that I could smile.

I felt the anger twinge inside myself,
I cursed all the time spent seeking wealth,
and bathed in loathing for my careless lack of health,
and my inability to ever ask for much needed help.

They say no one is ever ready to die
and there's always regrets when you go,
but when my number's up I won't try
I won't fight; I'll have no punches to throw.
Five stages and seven hells,
turn the pages and hope it sells.

Next was bargaining but I had nothing to give,
no reason to be here, no reason left to live,
but I took my chance on a lie a and fib,
and offered up my heart along with a shred of rib.

Every layer always gets warmer,
until it surely burns your skin,
you'll find the next is worse than the former,
is this the punishment for sin?

They say no one is ever ready to die
and there's always regrets when you go,
but to say life is short would be a lie,
'cause some of us just feel it's too slow.
Five stages and seven hells,
open the cages and ring the bells.

Depression walked in like an old friend,
it was no big change, there was no letter to send.
I realized I was defective with no chance to mend,
my spine officially broken even though I didn't bend.

Then acceptance finally washed over me,
with a conclusion some things are just not meant to be,
I didn't bow my head or fall on one knee,
words can't describe that feeling of being free.

They say no one is ever ready to die
and there's always regrets when you go,
I hope to find a comfortable home in the sky,
or atleast in soil for something else to grow.
Five stages and seven hells,
I'll live through the ages, constantly shedding my shells.

My fingertips are runny, they drip and ooze with ink
I keep them tied with garbage bags and drain them in the sink
Shades so dark, they'll break your heart- of those, I do not drink.
If I'm always cleaning up a spill, I don't have to stop and think.

I’m broken.
and I wish I could explain why.
especially to her.
but I’ll never be able to.
and I don’t know if I can live with that.

My head hangs heavy from the secrets I keep.
And the only other soul who knows them is already asleep.
That’s because his head is light.
It’s easy for him to keep his lips tight.

After all,
Loose lips
Sink ships.

I hope I’m not just a memory,
Of a little girl who still longs for your touch.

Because I am a grown *** woman
Who won’t use you as a crutch.

Crying is gross
gross and I do it often
often because I have a lot of
emotions and I don't know how to get it out without water pouring from my eyes
eyes that grow red and puffy

puffy is not a good look for me
me I hate crying but I do it
it makes me feel better
better to cry than have no emotion like you

you couldn't even pretend to care
care about our friendship
friendship means something to me but not to you
you won't cry

cry about the fact that I tried
tried to get you to open up and speak to me like an adult
adults talk about things and they also cry

crying may be weakness to you
you were silent
silent because you had nothing to say
say something and open your ******* mouth I wanted to
scream at you

you didn't care
caring about someone is exhausting when they don't care or put in any effort back
back to you I ask you if you have anything to say

say something after listening to me pour my heart out to you
you really have nothing to say
say something so when the tears come later I can say to myself that she tried

tried to mend things
things would never go back to the way they were
were they ever together to being with

with everything I said you just sat there
there's my answer
answer me this, will you cry for me the way I cried for you
you won't because robots don't cry