She wore the story of her life on her body-
Just to remember
Her father's beard scratch across her cheek
And the tear in his eye as he left.
Her brothers and sisters growing up around her,
Doing things she didn't understand.
She marked all those hours
Her father spent in the bathroom with withdrawals,
And the time he showed her how he took his medicine,
With a needle and a spoon.
How her brothers and sisters teased her,
Because she was different, and didn't understand.
She etched the first French kiss of her 7-year-old lips
From inside her closet with her best girlfriend, and
All the times she did what "best friends did."
Her brothers and sisters moved away.
And she never understood.
She wore her adolescence
Of eating disorder drug stained wasteland,
And cheap *** with cheap people,
Or some people who had some cash.
She didn't understand, and neither did
Her brothers and sisters.
How her father was never around to even ask
If she were okay.
She marked the day she was expelled from high school
When it was all she had, and it was ripped away.
How she spiraled endlessly into her emptiness.
Her brothers and sisters never called
And she didn't understand what "reality" was.
She carved all the nights she swallowed not enough pills,
The mornings after when she woke up.
She sliced how she felt her view of the world
Was too beautiful to be real.
And she cut the images of ****, molestation, manipulation and prostitution
While she tried to make love-
And she carved in the guilt from hurting her lover,
And letting her brothers and sisters down.
She scratched the time her ex held a gun to her head,
And how she hardly ever made music anymore.
She marked the way her friends didn't know her at all,
How she didn't want to understand, or tell anyone.
Then she didn't want her dad around.
She wore the story of her life on her body-
When she knew that God wasn't real,
And she slit her wrists one last time.

One cold night, a black butterfly took to the stars
In search of itself through all the darkness.
She flew higher and faster than ever before.
But the air was cold and the wind harsh-
It bit through her wings, and she began to fall.
She exhaled a fluttering butterfly breath
As she watched everything she had worked for hit the ground.
Down in a dirt hole, she looked from her jagged wings
To the big beautiful moon, way up in the sky-
And wished she had a friend like that.
Alone in that cold pit of earth, she froze.
And no one cared.

Sitting in a shifty shack
Safely sheltered
From the swarm of society.
Anxiety.

I hate this ******* festival.

Paranoia.