When you say that life is easy,
a little frustration is as bad as it gets,
I ask you what you were doing at age six.

were you running through the park?
playing with your friends?
doing nothing much?
careless of the world?

What if your whole life is determined at age six?

When I say that life is hard,
it's never been a good thing,
you ask me what I was doing at age six.

I was running through the fields, hoping I'd forget.
I talked to almost no one,
doing nothing much.
I cared too much about the smallest things and just hoped that it would stop.
It never stopped.

Six was the age I accepted that I would never be happy.
I knew I was different but I thought it would fade,
that maybe I'd forget and be able to stay.

But my whole life was determined at age six.

2 a.m. and I don't  understand
can I help you go to sleep?
can I show you how to dream?
your body's full of thoughts but I'll fill your thoughts with me

just tell me something like you've known me forever
because I've never been good at the getting to know you part

tell me something that'll make me remember
because I just can't seem to forget

tell me something that'll make you feel better
because I've never been good at showing I'm there

tell me something like you know it all
because I really believe that you do

talk to me like you waited all day
touch me like you care
hug me like you need some relief
I'll hold you 'til you're calm

you can run through the field 'til your legs fall off
and I'll be your scream into a pillow

you can be the lost kid, hidden in the darkness
and I'll be the darkness that took you

fix me like I'm the drink to soothe you
that way you'll take me in

see I'm pretty broken
and yeah I broke you too
but if we can glue our halves together
the light might just show through

now, sleep
please
show me the way to dream

out of everyone
it could've been anyone
but i was chosen for this task that no one wants.
as i walk to the door
i wonder why
as i turn the ****
i wonder why
as the dreaded creak means my entrance is now
i wonder
why.

dragged in here
i float
as i hear people scream
defending their side
i just can't decide
but maybe they aren't screaming
i think that might be me
because of the pain it brings
when they pull me in their opposite directions..
until i fall apart
but i was never really together.

raw in pieces
they keep giving me evidence
to prove that they are right
right about me

i guess i'm the guest
that doesn't want to be here
but they sure feel like unwanted guests
inside my head.

"she's a girl"
"he's a boy"
"because of this"
"because of that"
this can't be true
that can't be true

i'm just an observer
in this court room
but then why am i in the center?

i'm was picked at random,
the chosen one
and i really wish i wasn't.

A line of vases
the wind blows against
knocking them over,
but only a few left broken

Some picked back up,
others left with just a scratch
but i'm part of the batch
that shattered.

Built back up,
glued together,
you can't erase the damage done by this weather,
leaving me unwanted forever

Left there all alone
to be knocked over
or thrown
until i've shattered once more
so you just leave me on the floor

because i'm
too far gone,
yes, you made me
too far gone
and now no one will piece me back together.

breath,
    in and out,
    over and over.

2. get up,
    every morning,
    do your best.

3. eat,
    try,
    it’s okay if you can’t.

4. brush your teeth,
    back and forth,
    keep it up.

5. brush your hair,
    daily,
    you can do this.

6. go to school,
    dont shut down,
    interact.

7. come home,
    you’re  close,
    make it through.

8. breath,
    but I can’t.

The pain
has faded.
I don’t need it to end.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel,
at least a little.
I can see the optimism in
life.
I can see Everything,
and I thought that was enough
but maybe it's too much

because nothing’s going to change the fact
that I see myself as a walking dead girl.

I can now bare the pain
in my head.
But the pain is still there.
I’m still in the tunnel.
And even though I’m doing better,
I don’t think that it’s
Enough.

If I once was supposed to
**** myself
then maybe
I wasn’t supposed to
live.

The pain
has faded.
I don’t need it to end.
I’m happy,
at least a little.
I’m fine

But nothing’s going to change the fact
that I see myself as a walking dead girl.