Something in me grows;
My soul finds its will, choice.
I am what I need.

I don't ever know when to leave.
I never know the right time or
The right way to face it.
Leaving you would be like writing the story Halfway through and then tossing it.
That is why I need it to be you.
Please grab my pen and say it is the end,
Or I would never leave you.
I will stay rooted to this place,
Feeding the ghost of someone I knew.
I will always cling to that hope to the day you Drop the rope.
You don't understand how much I would Endure to feel your love,
Even for a fleeting moment,
But please cut our roots before you leave.
Make it painful,
Make it bruise,
**** it so I can't even feel you.
That pain will be the reminder that I lost you. Please butcher me,
because I could never do that to you.
Pour the gasoline,
Light the fuse,
So that it's the last moment I see of you.
Because if I don't feel the burn
And see the hate,
I will sit here and wait
Until you love me again.
Please make me hate you
So I can stop loving you.
A clean break,
Though it may scar,
Is what I need,
Or it will prolong the weakest parts of me.
And yet the gasoline was poured
Without my voice ever rising.
The flames engulfing our memories,
Their ghostly dance now mesmerizing.
No whispered goodbyes,
No lingering touch,
Just the searing cut.
In the ashes, a truth;
I'm finally,
Undeniably,
Free from you.
Though the pain will linger
As a haunting memory,
I will find my peace
Without you next to me.

There are only so many truths
I can write.
Only so much creativity
Until it runs dry.
How much longer
till my hand reaches the blade?
How much more
Cathartic writing can finally
Keep my mind at bay?
I try to remember
When a busy mind controls a steady hand,
I should be mindful of the tools I put in it,
But I am only so strong.
I hate to admit it.
And yet,
Even now,
I continue to write.
My hand reaches for the pen
And rejects the knife.
Each line is a release,
A release of the pain my mind holds deep.
But there are only so many pages to fill,
Only so much ink to bleed.
One day,
The well will run dry,
And I will plead with myself,
But the page will remain blank,
And my mind will greet the knife
Like it had never left.
A silent surrender
That the scars
Will never let me forget,
And if the words don't come,
Will the blade be the next to speak again?
When words fail,
I will try to seek a different light.

My whole life,
I have been living within
The limitations.
A paint by the number,
No alterations.
My life,
Stunted
By the ones I loved.
Silence and obedience,
Their only form of love.
They made that truth
Run deep in my blood.
For in the silence,
They could prey
On my innocent love.
Mum's the only phrase
To keep their monsters at bay.
So I stayed silent.
I stayed compliant.
For years,
I found solace in the quiet.
And yet slowly
My courage peeked its head,
Became one with the paper,
And my story not only wept,
It bled.
It bled the truth,
With the words from my pen.
Unlimited by words,
I began.
I wrote of all my pain,
All the hate.
I wrote of my secret loves
And greatest shames.
With the pen I am a giant.
No reason to hide it.
With my words,
I become unlimited.
With my words,
A new world can begin.
A world of my own
Where the silence ends
And my life begins.