I'm too broken now
alone and broken.
no one to pick up the pieces,
the glue and help me

I'm too broken now
to wake up and spend my time
how I'm told that I'm supposed to
to do as I'm supposed to

I'm too broken now
to enjoy my hobbies
embrace my passions
to think of my future

I'm too broken now
to paint, to write
to create.

I'm too broken now
to pick up the tools
paint brush, pencil
to do as I want to

I used to dance in the rain
now I cry with the clouds

years are funny aren't they?
sometimes they gallop away quickly
dancing and singing into the sunset
other times they dawdle
slowly fading, their bag weighing them down
too heavy with memories to run

this year or year and a half I should say
has never gone slower
a long list of pain
a heavy bag
does slow me down
trapping me in the past
when all I wish for is to run away

I still see the scars sometimes
even though they're faded know,
when I'm cold and my skin gets paler
I see their ghosts
where they used to line my arms
like guards, they thought they were helping me
instead they were a runway
to the final act which I had no nerve to perform
lucky, isn't it?

Still I see you, trying to free the emotions
Helplessly trapled inside my flesh
maybe I could rip them out
makeover that would cause my heart to stop beating

I think I'm sad but I was never good with emotions
you know? I always get lost when navigating them.
My compass must be off, wonky maybe
Or my emotions change too quickly
the second I get close, they're gone.
Always just too far for me too reach.

Why can't it be simpler? Like when I was younger.
Sad, happy, anger, boredom
that's the main four, I think.
Now there's so many all mixed into one
that I no longer know my lefts from my right

"bring back bullying"
except it never left
it evolved and grew
like a wild vine
left unchecked

"bring back bullying"
except I bet you never
cried before school
the night and morning before
never getting a break

I've never been bullied by another
I've never bullied any person
except myself maybe
as for years I did torture myself
criticising my every movement
my every thought and decision
then it became physical,
as that's the way the story always goes

I'm no longer who I was
that fact makes my heart ache
my lungs weaken
my smile fade
because I was the happiest kid
with no care of what you thought

now I stare in the mirror for hours
trying to convince myself I'm pretty

now I think about every interaction
trying to decipher if I was too much

I'm no longer who I was
the carefree joy was stolen from my palm
and now my finger tips reach for it again