Do not be afraid to say sorry.
I remember your forgiveness more than your mistakes.

This bath is not only filled with the tears of my eyes, for I sit in a cocktail of tears and blood. What once was a Shirley Temple shared with friends at the bar, now becomes my grotesque form of release.

Pit pat is the sound made my the bottoms of my feet, making my way ever so closely to my knifes. My sincere serrated digs up blood and tissue, as if it is trying to search for the joy that died out many years ago.

Angel on one shoulder, Devil on the other.
Bickering between them and I’m stuck in the ******* middle. I never knew it could be possible, but the Angel brings out my wrath for everything, breathing or not. The Angel squeaking in my ear turns me to the devil, for I want to stomp away this unrealistic symbol of Good and Innocence. The Devil shows me that I am quite a mercy-full being, for he speaks the twisted ways of the devil, and I may be mercy full in not acting out his ways. Days upon days they yell and yell, never reaching a conclusion. Unlike them, I have reached a conclusion; that being a paintbrush with pellets.

Pflfdlpflflfldpdldldplldlfpffl

The toughest battles are fought in your head
But I don’t think I’m ready