At 2 a.m. In the morning
Demons come out to play.
Cannibals clawing at your door,
What last words do you have to say?

At 2 a.m. in the morning,
Only lonely souls are awake.
Fighting those stupid demons
With nothing but a blade.

At 2 a.m. In the morning
Have you ever needed somebody to talk to?
Have you ever scrolled through your contacts,
Finding no one you can tell things to?

2 a.m. In the morning
Insomniacs are wide awake.
For the pain that leave us "sober"
Is what that's making us stay.

At 2.01 a.m.
I bid my final goodbye
As I flung myself to those cannibals
Who are lonely freaks like me.

(C.C)

2 a.m. is for the poets
who can't sleep
because their minds
are alive with words
for someone who's not there.

2 a.m. is for the lonely
who are in love
with the loved
but aren't loved back.

2 a.m. is not for the happy
who sleep comfortably
without a care in the world.

2 a.m. is for the broken
who lay awake
in a dark room
where the dark
is more comforting
than the light.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
hatchlings aren't able to fly,
though they think they are.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
in order to live
and to love,
part of me had to die.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
i would never be
as beautiful or as perfect
as the dove.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
i was worthless,
and if i wanted something,
i had to work for it.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
you were protecting me
from the outside world.
i didn't realize i was suffering.


my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
i couldn't trust anyone,
there were predators all around,
and when it rained, it poured.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
i told myself that
it was time to fly.
oh, it hurt, but still,
your words were never as soft as the ground.

Sometimes your arms feel like home,
They hold me tight, your hands
Stroking the back of my head,
Reassuring me that, yes,
I am okay and, yes,
Everything will be okay
Because you are here,
So there's nothing to fear,
And I couldn't possibly feel safer.
But sometimes your arms feel like a cage.
There's just enough air for me to breathe,
But I am trapped in your fierce, unwanted grip.

I'm sorry that I don't feel like sharing a bed
After I told you I was depressed and you
Told me to stop freaking out and calling you.
I'm sorry that your words hit me like a tidal wave
And brought me to the bathroom
With a knife in my hand.
I'm sorry that one, two, three, four cuts later,
I was bleeding out on the floor,
Practically unconscious, but awake enough
To see the growing pool of red.
You're sorry I resorted to harming myself.
I'm sorry that I didn't finish the job.

I grew up thinking that love, only love,
Could save me from myself, but maybe I was wrong.
Maybe love is the thing I need to be saved from.
Maybe love is the real monster here.
Every story has a villain.
I just never imagined that you'd be mine.

Triggers triggers everywhere

This pain I can no longer bear

One little cut is all I need

I just want to bleed

See the crimson fall from my skin

And create another sin

While I pass out on the floor

There is no more

It ends tonight

So now I sleep tight