It's hard to see
When you're six feet
Under dirt
It's harder to see
When you're so close
To getting hurt.

It's hard to see
When your walls are
Made of steel
It's harder to see
When you're trying
Not to feel.

I remember a time when
I mattered.
So far away now,
Forgotten
Under scars of time.
Indifferent from
the heartache,
It's perspective dulling
Memory.
A rot
Uncertainty
Inhumanity.
I was born
Unnoticed,
To be forgotten.

I was *mending myself when I talked to you
I was *mending myself as I opened up to you
I was *mending myself when I let you kiss me
I was *mending myself when I let you take my clothes off
I was *mending when I let you see every inch of my untouched body
I was *mending myself when I let you have me completely
I was *mending myself when I let you be the center of my universe

When happiness and smiles you have within grasp
They’ll charge in with swords of pain and sadness
Raise your shield with a tighter clasp
Be strong, be strong against your demons!

As achievements and great success chimes
They’ll attempt to feed it with arrogance and pride
Keep watch and be aware at all times
Be strong, be strong against your demons!

While innocence and upright honesty comforts
They’ll rebel on with lies and sly deceits
Restrict them from ever passing forth
Be strong, be strong against your demons!

Among the midst of compassion and pure love
They’ll counter with anger and ugly hatred
Fend them off with all the might you have
Be strong, be strong against your demons!

They will be close your whole life
They will force themselves in
Do not let them win
Be strong, be strong against your demons!

"I'm fine," she says with a halfhearted grin.
"I'm fine," she says again, waving away a helpful hand.
"I'm fine," she says to herself, several minutes later.
"I'm fine," she whispers, wiping her face.
She's not fine.

"I'm fine," she says moments after the cry leaves her lips.
"I'm fine," she says to herself, sinking to the floor.
"I'm fine," she tells herself, shaking in a ball.
"I'm fine," she repeats, picking up the razorblade.
She's not fine.

"I'm fine," she says to her concerned family.
"I'm fine," she insists as those who love her worry.
"I'm fine," she says to anyone who listens.
"I'm fine," she lies as she slices her wrists.
She's not fine.

"I'm fine," she cries, sobbing on the bathroom floor.
"I'm fine," she wails, but only in a whisper.
"I'm fine," she mutters, watching the blood leave her wrist.
"I'm fine," she practices, stepping from the room.
She's not fine.

"I'm fine," she assures the world outside.