I lay there after surviving something I thought would **** me,
I’m burrowed deep into my own thoughts and every question I was asked seemed so personal,
I don’t want to be here, why is my soul worth saving?
I even laid there, numb while I was on a drip due to dehydration,
I even laid there numb, while my family cried,
I even laid there numb while the pills were slowly dissolving, shutting down my mind and organs,
Something I had hoped for,

For such a long time.

Why me, why did I survive?
I spent 8 ******* days and 7 ******* nights, surrounded by 4 white walls,
Every colour was so bright, almost as if it was proving to me that I, in fact did not have any light or colour in my life,
While the sombre walls couldn't of been any more empty,
My mind aimlessly wondered through the small crevasses in life, trying to find at least something worth living for,
I even laid in silence, the only time I made a sound,
Was when I was masked with a drug to put me out,
Something that I couldn't have been anymore ecstatic about, while I was being cut open,
Something that happened often, but without gas to numb the pain.

I didn't need numbing.

I woke up from surgery, in more pain than I endured,
Again I was surrounded by 4 white walls,
I shot up from my bed, to then be restrained back and injected with morphine,
I didn't understand why I needed so much numbing,
Couldn't they see?

The layers of my skin were so worn and torn, I couldn't feel a thing!
My heart was so broken and detriment I couldn't feel a thing!
My eyes were so tired, I couldn't see, I couldn't feel a thing!
My lungs were so bruised, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't feel a thing!

It was my last day, I was finally leaving,
I could finally feel something,
But all I could think about now,
Was morphine.

I'm re writing and re reading all the pages I have ever seen,
It's like I'm addicted to this, addicted to the pain and emotions that people once had,
I long for this feeling, to leave me,
The suicidal tendencies that I'm bordering,
The stories that iv been obsessed with,
Iv bookmarked all the pages I'll read a thousand times
Until one day, I won't read them at all,
Until one day, everything I feared, lost, remembered and hoped for all disappeared,

Depression is rehab, making me recover from the happiness I once had,
It's consuming me and slowly shutting down every cell in my brain,
This darkness is diligent to take away all my life expectations,
My glass soul is being poured and filled, infected and consumed, by everything I hate,
It's overfilling with dull complexions, making my life wretched,
Until it shatters, I carry on gently through life, fearing at any moment, i'll break,
How can the sun be shining then without notice the rain pours subordinately over the top, bringing it's thunders and storms to block out every sound, to make everything motionless and numb.

The gleaming headlight reflecting off the surface of my shining eyes,
The roads seems so empty tonight but roads are cemented with cars,
Everyone has a place to be, people to see, a routine to endure,
But no time for life itself,
Im standing here in the dark, something I'm highly afraid of,
Yet so relaxed to see a second of light shine past me,
The headlight giving me something to strive for,
Of course like everything, it lasts for a second,
Then I'm stood here again waiting for a spark

I see nothing but a man, screaming to be realised and untied, forcefully breaking through for air. I see nothing but a women, slowly fading away, Into the shadows, in which will always follow me, haunt me to remind me of what I once was,

I have torn away at my outer shell, to make my identity, somewhat translucent,
I am a stranger to my skin, the stranger that has been suffocating me for 16 ******* years,

Have I been born yet? Or am I still a book ready to be written, full of ideas and journeys, full of life, yet neglected like an ancient undiscovered history book,

Like those captured animals I've been locked away my whole life,
I've been tortured by my own mind,
Poisoned by the minds around me, a daughter, a bride, a mother, they're all just society's illusions,

I'm still a walking Skeleton with just bone and no identification,
I'm an escape artist, i'll cut my way out of this skin until I bleed myself dry,
So just bury me after I'm dead, so I can leave that life behind, leave my dresses and skirts at the grave,

When water spills, the only path it takes is the one that flows easiest,
But the path I have chosen is cemented, I have reached an impasse, with no direction, I need a river to keep me from disposition
I need to be free, I want to exist.