My
Thin blue lines
Are the targets
For your cries
Can’t think
For how sick
We made ourselves.

My
Thin blue lines
On my hands and wrists, I’m blind
Remove my sight,
Remove my eyes
Take my ties
And cut my lines,
My thin blue lines

Dropping constant lies,
Everything’s fine
Constant false smiles,
I’ll be on time
Tomorrow, today
Always
Keeping away,
Can’t say different,
Won’t it be brilliant.

My
Thin blue lines
On my hands and wrists I’m blind
Remove my sight,
Remove my eyes
Take my ties and
Cut my lines

Seething, livid gaze,
Look through a haze
Constantly fired,
Easily liars
Tomorrow, today
Always
Keeping away
See red so easy,
Can’t say you’ll see me

My
Thin blue lines
Are the targets for my cries
Can’t think
For how sick
We made ourselves

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

One.
I am broken
fully shattered by myself and others,
trying to pick up the puzzle pieces
I’ve been left to find.
Worn into a two edged sword
that has cut my skin and left me unloveable.

Two.
Some days it will seem like I am cured.
I will look whole,
as if a miracle came from heaven
and fixed my aching skin
and wrapped me up in something that will never happen.
I will seem okay as if everything before was just a phase,
but I need you to know that tomorrow
I will be me again.
Jagged lines drawn across rainy skies
that never quite made a connection.

Three.
I am trying.
Can’t you see from the bags under my eyes
that this is eating me alive?
I was two steps from Hell,
but now I am four,
trying to dig my way back to sanity.
There is peace in giving up,
but I have opted for chaos.

Slowly I have noticed that
My days are spilling into one.
Colours started fading out
And now my sense of taste is gone.
Painted circles on my eyes,
From endless hours of restless sleep,
I wear them like a war paint,
My battle cry; a sullen weep.
Now it doesn’t hurt as much
As it has done for many years.
Creeping numbness took ahold
Now even death knows not my fears.