And with tears rolling down her blotchy red cheek,
she lies down in the middle of the battlefield, now so weak –
so tired of saving herself from the demons that haunt every fibre of her being,
she decides that welcoming her demise would be most freeing.

The colour red drips like paint down the snow white canvas that is my arm;
the thin silver thread held between finger and thumb has brought a sense of calm.

These sweet little pills flush my fears away,
eradicating every content of my gut until I feel okay.
The pain burns like a ravaging fire within, yet I am numb -
for I know that once I am empty, the calm will come.

Self-hate rises like bile from the pit of my stomach and claws away at my throat -
the kind of pure loathing for which there is no antidote.
Revulsion of my reflection has claimed possession and poisoned me well;
and led to a destructive path that is the equivalent of Hell.

If you touch her, even softly, you might cause her to break;
for she is porcelain, made of hopelessness, despair and heartache.
Her soul is destroyed, her bones are heavy and her determination is crushed;
the fire in her eyes has been extinguished and even her quietest whisper has been hushed.
There are explosions of blue, green and purple that litter her legs and thighs
and crimson slits that lace her skin; all of which she makes while she sits and cries.
She’s exhausted in a way that cannot be fixed by sleep,
for the darkness that smothers her is in her veins and runs far too deep.

The darkness swoops in, becoming a shell;
it envelopes me – a feeling I know all too well.
I’m breathing in to the count of ten, but the air won’t make its way to my lungs,
instead they’re filling with the weight of water and my head is banging like drums.
My eyesight becomes indistinct, my head becomes dizzy and my body is slowly incapacitated;
I collapse with the panic wrapped around me like a blanket that keeps me captivated.

and now I'm suffocating - not from lack of oxygen but from lack of hope,
a lack of feeling alive and ability to cope;
instead I'm drowning in pain with my chest exploding and my heart aching,
waiting for my demise because I'm so tired and inside I'm breaking.

Waterfalls; both of water from my eyes and blood from my veins
run tumultuously - and the pain so irrevocably remains.

Nobody sees and nobody knows
just how deep my self-loathing goes;
the darkest crevice in my mind never shows,
and my haunted life longs to decompose.

the light within me has been extinguished and now red lace covers my skin,
my mind and heart bleed out the descending darkness from within;
this has become a fraught battle of the mind that I just cannot win.

You made flowers grow within every inch of me;
filled the cracks within the darkest places of my soul
and created the newfound happiness I never thought I'd see.

Time ticking like a bomb as I fall back into self-destruction,
my life taking a turn into a disordered direction;
the pain sweeps through my body like a hurricane
ripping every part of me apart as it twists through every vein.
I’m suffocating with every breath I take,
so fragile I am, it’s causing me to break.
I don’t wish to be a part of the earth any longer
the wish to come to one’s own end grows ever stronger.

all my life has passed by in darkness; my life black and white,
I've never known the meaning of colour or seen the meaningful light -
in a perpetual state of destruction and self-hate;
the need to be calamitous must be innate
and my veins are tangled while weeping out debris
of the tortured, shattered, dying life within me.

You silenced my voice for all those years,
left me with scars and a face full of tears -
and you took me to a place that was the definition of Hell;
I spent each day living a nightmare that suffocated me well.
All the while my soul was blackened by the darkness of the evil acts placed upon me;
I became a wreckage and all that was left of me was black debris.
I waited for an escape and freedom as the survivor and accuser;
but I was merely a prisoner of my childhood abuser.
Now I'm like a daisy growing in the cracks of a pavement;
growing despite you keeping me within enslavement.
I've risen like the fire that ignites my bones;
and my eyes are no longer dead but shine like gemstones.
I am no longer the broken girl I was back then;
I'm stronger, wiser, braver - and I am whole again.

I am no longer sane, alive; no longer whole,
all I am now is the residue of a torn, frayed, defeated soul.

I was dying; suffocated by the despondent blanket wrapped around me ever so tightly -
yet nobody listened to my screams or took notice of my distraught face or fiery red scars so unsightly.
So I listened to the devils; and proceeded to depart this life - under their very noses,
and now I have a blackened soul and heart and I'm buried beneath the earth; under the fallen red roses.

He stands tall and sanguine like a beautiful sunflower;
always facing the sun and absorbing its positivity and strength hour by hour;
never allowing the darkness to swallow him whole or cause him discomfort or pain -
he just brushes it off and grows more compelling and powerful through the storms and the rain.

And here I am, the opposite; a wallflower
who hasn't got the strength to go on (nor the willpower) -
I am a wilting, moribund soul with dwindled leaves and descending dead seeds;
suffocated by the never ending nightmare - I join the worthless weeds.

Tears run down my cheeks leaving rivers and oceans of anecdotes
with every memory of you escaping as though echoes of you on little boats;
so full of wanderlust just waiting for an escape from my mind -
to be anywhere but here where you're oh so confined.

Once you were the one who put butterflies in my stomach and made them flutter all the while you were near -
but now they have turned into brutal wasps that cannot stop stinging every nerve in my body when in my mind you appear.

I can see the tears behind your brave smile
even though you keep your head held high mile after mile.
I know of the pain you bear in every inch of your heart and soul;
it spreads like wildfire through every fibre of your being & you're no longer whole.

I am BPD.
I am the demon that possesses your mind,
I am the ghost of all you want to leave behind.
I am the monster that will make you unstable,
The voice in your head making you suicidal.
I am your heart making your emotions intense,
I am your mind, muddled and making no sense.
I am your brain making you neurotic,
With the perfect balance of a handful of psychotic.
I am your self-esteem making you feel worthless,
I will make sure you feel that you have no purpose.
I am your impulsiveness making you act reckless;
Your need to harm yourself is becoming endless.
I am your soul feeling neglected,
You feel it very deeply because you need to be protected.
I am your extreme paranoia,
Making you live in a shell, I’m a merciless destroyer.
I am your fear of rejection, you will outburst at the slightest disaffection.
So, I am BPD and I will ruin your life,
I will cover you in scars made by the blade of a knife.

I'm lying on the pink carpeted floor,
bleeding, crying... what's this life for?

I'm underneath the spot where I tried to hang,
with a rope around my neck, I hit the floor with a bang.

I don't want to be like this anymore,
please just show me Heaven's door.
Earth just isn't for me,
why is that so hard for others to see?

Lacerations around my neck,
the next morning all I hear is "what the heck?"
but I lie and say my headphones got caught,
they believe every word I say - I'm distraught.

Why can't anyone see how much pain I'm in?
This is no longer a battle I can win.
Nobody cares, I will not be missed,
death is calling and I cannot resist.

I'm trying so hard to fit in,
But the pressure is high to be masculine.
I go to the gym everyday
For at least 4 hours - that's the way
to keep on losing all of this weight.
I can't remember the last time that I ate.

Water fasts, laxatives, diuretics galore,
This is an illness no one should ignore.

1 stone, 2  stone, 3 stone gone,
Nothing left for my body to live on.
But nobody listened when I asked for help in this,
Because I am a male my struggles with anorexia went amiss.

I became dangerously underweight,
My organs began to fail - now I know my fate.

I want to run away to wonderland,
away from these tough times I'd never planned.
Away to find my own Cheshire cat smile,
and to forget all my troubles for a little while.
To smell the perfume of roses as I run through the wood,
falling through the rabbit hole as elegantly as I should.
To have tea parties while being kissed by the sun
with a touch of warmth and a promise of more fun.
I wish to become as lost as Alice in the forest
and to find the madness the Hatter possessed, if I'm honest.
And once I am in wonderland
I'll stay forever, just as I'd planned.

Mistakes are embellished upon my skin,
a permanent reminder of the past hidden within;
mnemonics of the delinquent, disastrous path
I once trod; these marks are just the aftermath.

I sleep in the foreboding dark,
haunted by your unrelenting mark;
and I figure I always will be -
until death do us part, I believe.

The damage you caused is embroidered on my skin like a tattoo;
a permanent reminder of the torture you put me through.
Yet the hundreds of jagged scars and bruises on my skin
are no match for the lacerations on my soul within.

You led me to begin this war with my very own mind;
now all I can see is death and destruction - to happiness I am blind.
So sharp blades came to breathe upon my statuesque wrists
and crimson rivers run across them in coagulant twists.

There are so many times where I cannot think or shed tears
and I simply want to sleep for a thousand years -
or not exist at all; just to stop the pain.

I want it all to stop spinning again.

Searching for something to make me feel alive,
for it's no longer enough to carry on and merely survive.
Life has lost it's flavour; rather like eating cardboard each day.
Where lies the tragedy in the things I continue to say?
Is it in waking up each morning against my very will?
Or is it in having each second tainted by the darkness painfully still?
Everything is (and I am) depression;
the tragedy is in my never-ending tribulation.

Hope leaves you vulnerable and fragile;
it’s prone to shattering in a way most agile.
And once it has broken in every way it can,
you end up bleeding more than before it all began.
You drown in the sea of disappointment;
suffocated by desolation so poignant.
The world seemingly survives on hope,
and also dies because of it - hope is a slippery *****.