I have a history.
One that's not so easy to read.
Just like a book with every turn of a page.
You must cringe at what you see.
My past.
My present.
My future.
All have been ashes.
I'm not easy to read.
The words are all twisted.
All scary.
Some pages are torn up like my wrists.
There are reasons I never wear bikini bottoms in the summer.
Always shorts so people don't ask about the cuts and burns.
I wear tattoos to cover up scars.
Yeah my book is very tattered.
Very broken.
Falling apart even.
But my book reflects my life.
That's okay.

I hear the sweetness of your voice in my ear.
Only a hallucination.
Never real anymore.
They all tell me to get the hell away from you.
That you are hurting me.
Yes you are hurting me.
I've never been in more pain.
That's okay.
I've always love pain anyways

So this is a poem for all the people out there.
The people who used to live like they didn't care.
The ones scared to speak up.
The ones who always felt like they messed up.
To all of you who have a history.
It's that story.
The one that makes up you.
Yeah there are very few.
Few similar.
Many who have walked down the road you went down.
The road you ran to when you felt like nobody else was around.
There was always someone who saw your pain when you cried.
Someone who would have stayed up countless nights.
Someone who let go of themselves to make sure your alright.
So this poem is for all the recovering people.
The ones who feel like they were lost.
Hopeless even.
Relying on drugs, achohol, ***, and other outlets.
Personal my Ive found that you can't always have those to rely on.
Eventually they are gonna be the reason you refuse to carry on.
You are all so important.
You are all so different.
However you wound up where you are today,
Know there is important in your history.
Everything you've ever done has led up to someone.
I know friends who have gotten past everything that used to drown them. I'm so freaking proud of them.

Day by day I walk down this sidewalk.
Always alone.
Excluding the one time someone walked with me.

We walked down the side walk together.
Something had happened earlier and we had to get away from it all.
Everything is going to be okay I told her.
Just breath.

Never again did she walk the lonely sidewalk with me again.
Instead she began walking with a different friend.
Back to the old times.
Back to walking alone.

Sweet girl...
Friends said I shouldn't talk to her.
Yeah she's slowly killing me.
Ripped my heart out for all to see.
Yet she holds it ever so gently.
Sweet Girl...
Talks about the other chick all the time.
Blocked me because she didn't want the chick to find.
That her and I were talking.
Sweet Girl...
I asked why she lets the one chick do that to her.
Why she can't move on.
She kept saying she needed something. Somehow I knew exactly what she means.
Sweet Girl. ..
You don't hold my heart as gentle anymore.
You kinda smashed it in a door.
Yeah this is how it feels to love someone who doesn't feel the same.
Sweet Girl...
I'm still sorry.
Sorry for doing everything.

Nope no pain.
Deep down under my sleeves I press down on cuts.
The cuts hurt bad.
Bad like everything memory.
I say it's just allergies.
That's the reason I look like I'm crying.
It's never allergies.
It's a little problem I like to call heartbreak.
When you fall for someone and they don't love you.
So many times this has happened.
Just great.