they ask me
do you want to get better?
do you intend on bettering yourself?
will you get better?
truth be told
i dont know
i've bit at my nails till the blood runs down my wrist
i've cracked all my bones till my knuckles were red
i've dug at my skin till i bruise
and no answer draws from the marks i leave
so maybe they should leave me alone
because i cant write the answer in skin and bone

reputable stigmata staining my hands like ink and bleeding through the paper back book of a story
on chapter fifteen
each word is made of blood
each page is just tears
writing out all of my deepest fears
fifteen she screams at the top of her lungs
the year when she refused to eat her birthday cake
afraid to gain back that weight
the year she sat in the back of the cop car
trying to run from home
the year her anorexia poked through the seams in her jeans
cutting and dicing her skin like elastic
stretching her mind out just like plastic
shes not a plastic toy
shes more like glass that cracked

the sun will shine no more
i've held on to you too long
my heart has a meltdown anyway
told you i couldn't smile
you turned me upside down making my tears into my crown
i didnt think it would hurt the way it did
but i guess i lied when i told you i never cried
cant stop running through the rain
the wind sweeps me off of my feet
further than you could ever
due to your courtesy visit
i can no longer pick up the phone
all you'll hear is my dial tone