The fridge light spills out onto the tiles
A voice rings out, loud
*Have something healthy if you're going to eat *
A tight smile  Oh no
I'm not hungry at all
A carton, a glass
And the demon in my stomach tries to claw out again

I'm okay, she says as she slices her wrist
I'm fine, she murmurs in between gulps of bleach  
I've never been happier*, she whispers as the light fades from her eyes

Roll it up
Light it up
Send it up
It sends you up
To
Euphoria
Then
Nothing

I have spent hours contemplating the right way to express the things in my mind.

But no combination of 26 different letters can even begin to explain what this is.

No form of imagery can show the world the things that I see in my head.

No similes or metaphors can bring people to tears like my own thoughts do to me.

No adjective can describe the voices I hear, telling me I'm worthless and insignificant.

And even if I could extract my thoughts and play them like a movie, no one would see it the way I do.

No one would see them like their own, and interpret them like I do.

It's all up there, created by me, but someone ******* hacked my brain and put a password on it,

For when I try and scream out for help, or when I try and write it all down, I keep stopping, and overthinking, and start worrying that it's not right.

Whether I want people to see the things I see in my head,

Whether I want them to be brought to tears,

Whether I want them to hear the voices,

Because If I were them, I wouldn't.

A boy leans against his door,
Torn by the grief and loss created by his own mind,
Tear stained cheeks that never knew a smile.

The boy falls to the floor,
The door is blocked by his own weight,
He is trapped by his body in a room cut off from kindness.

The boy hits his head against the wall,
In a futile attempt to escape this life,
His head begins to throb, a confused mess of screaming voices fill his ears.

Then one voice is clear,
Calling him,
Leading him,
He feels safe, sure, free,
He finds himself calling back,
"I trust you." He says, raising his eyes from the floor,
"I trust you," She replies, but that's not what he heard.
"Open the door," Is what he heard, words he'd never even considered.

He lifts himself up, and grabs for the lock,
With a moment of hesitation, he slides the bolt across.
But he can't bring himself to do it, he looks at the handle,
He puts his hand on it and tries to push down.

But his other hand stops him, grabbing at his wrist,
He is so close now, but he can't do it,
He takes two steps back, away from hope,
And the door swings wide open, light streams in,
With a smile she grabs his hand, and pulls him from his cell.

He sees an open door behind her, a room as dark as his,
"How did you get out?" He asks, she just laughs and squeezes his hand.
"One clear voice, calling, leading," She whispers in his ear,
"It told me to open the door."