I look happy, don’t I?
there are no cuts on my wrists
all you see
is the smile on my lips
maybe even a spark in my eyes
and all you hear
is me telling everyone i'm fine
maybe even a laugh once in a while

but when will you look deep into my eyes
look beneath the spark and the deep blue
see the emptiness and the darkness in me

   when you will realize
the smile is a facade
i'm not happy, it's fake, i'm hiding my tears
   when you will see
the spark is a blur
i'm not happy, i’m on the edge to tears
   when you will hear
the laugh is a scream
i'm not happy, i’m choking on pain

did you check my heart? it’s filled with scars

*(s.m)

The gorgeous girl
She smiled at her friends
Her parents never suspected
That when she was alone
In the silence of night
The blade ran over her skin
Drew blood from her body
Thousands on thousands
When one healed another formed
Long sleeves and jackets
His her pain
And no one suspected a thing

I used to cut my wrists because I hoped the answers would spill out with my blood.
Ironically, I wasn’t really trying to **** myself, I just really wanted to find a reason as to why I should live.
I used to cut my wrists because the blood seemed to wash away all the pain from yesterday, and prepare me for the next.
Ironically, while I was killing myself slowly, the deeper I cut, the more I began to realize how much I needed to breathe.
I used to practice tying nooses because I was trying to figure out what I was doing wrong and why it never seemed to get the job done.
Ironically, I didn’t want to **** myself because I had nothing, I was trying to **** myself because I felt there was more opportunities in the afterlife.
I used to be a very sad and confused child who seemed to almost chase death.
Ironically, on my slightly suicidal adventures, I felt very alive and every racing beat of my heart made me remember that I am no different from any other human.
I used to chase a bottle of pills with ***** because I thought it would be a good tonic.
Ironically, when I’d lie on the bathroom floor with tears rolling down my cheeks, throwing up blood and food, I’d laugh because it showed how mortal I was.
I used to play games with death and laugh when I beat him.
Ironically, as much as I did want to die, I wanted to be alive more--feel alive. Feel like a ******* human being and know that I’m just as vulnerable to death as everyone else.
I used to cut my wrists because I hoped the answers would spill out with my blood, but I learned that*  **the answers won’t ever be found there, no matter how deep and hard you look.

When people say they want to **** themselves
It's not the self they want to ****
It's those parts of their being that are so parasitic and damaging
Yet so vitally connected
That the only hope
Is to destroy the entire entity

No body deserves it, at first your heart wants to stop beating
The toxic adrenaline running through your veins wants to **** you,
But after that, you learn to love yourself again,
You get stronger
And those painful days seem to move by faster.
And then finally you realize that there's no point in chasing the stars,
There's no point in waiting for the moon to come back to you,
Because each day they're going to go
And every night they're going to come back to you