Do you recall pain?
Remember the restless nights?
Now they are your fault

The tables have turned
Time is on the other side
Of this agist world

Now you are the problem
You invoke the sleeplessness
I hope you're happy

We are not

I dreamed last night.
And for the first time in a long while
it came back to me with the morning.
A man who appeared to be a doctor entered my home unannounced.
My parent's delighted faces sent rays of light into my mind.
I looked at my cracked hands dazed away.
An uncomfortable presence filled the room with an eerie smoke.
He continued with "We are going to make you beautiful."
I never asked for this.
I never knew about this.
beautiful.
The word lost it's true meaning.
"Pick out your new eye color."
"I'll close the ragged holes on your ears."
"Better hair."
"Smaller nose."
I awoke in fright.
Then I wondered,
Out of all the dreams, why did I remember this one?

I tried writing you a letter the first of May but my heart shot my hand with a silver bullet.

I tried dancing in your dreams but the sunrise stole you away.

I poisoned your cup with my tears but in your smile they dissolved.

I tried walking into your presence but my head crippled this body.

I tried.
To stop.
Trying.

Now how do I nurse these wounds?

Never has there been an escape
Never have I seen the way out
Never has there been a green light
Nor a benefit of the doubt

Never has there been a yellow-brick-road
Nor a lantern to lead my way past
Never has there been guidance
Nor an answer to the questions I've asked

Forever there's been a problem
When yourself is the antagonist
Forever there's been a conflict
That cannot be solved with your fist

But forever and ever we've fought
We fight ourselves and we fight each other
Pain and pleasure walk hand in hand
But never look in the eyes of one another

Never have they met
*Not really

There was a young girl sitting alone,
casually sipping her tea, such a pretty scene,
a razor on her thigh, waiting for a smooth victim,
a bottle of pills on the counter, waiting to be emptied,
a gun on the bed, waiting for sweet release.

Should she give in, which poison should she pick?
Let the pretty tablets fall on her tongue,
have her blood splatter the walls, the ceiling, the floors,
or let her die piece by piece, slice by slice on her wrist?

They tell her she’s beautiful, but it’s all for naught,
she believes they’re lies, all of it, lies,
blinded by the darkness of her mind’s illness.
They tell her they care, but it matters not,
she knows it’s all lies, false information,
deafened by the screaming of her mind’s demons.

They tell her she can talk to them, but she cannot,
her cries don’t escape, her struggles never heard,
silenced by the stitches of her mind’s distrust and paranoia.