It is an ache
An inexplicable desire to stop
It burns a hole in my chest
Therefore, exposing a damaged heart full of broken beats
You would think that this would be a sign for help
Key word: Think.
Yet, people turn a blind eye to the strain and tear stains painted on my face
They deny the visible struggle that strangles my mangled heart
Why?
When does pain have to be enough to be acknowledged?

I am homeless

So I seek shelter in my broken soul

The windows are shattered, just dangling shards of what used to be

They let the chill slide in

They let it **** my comfort

But this is all I have

There is no second resort

I hope one day I find my worth and come “home”

But first, I need to find a place.

A place where my mind doesn’t race.

For my thoughts make my head a cluttered space.

From manic emotions to things I need to ace.

The overuse of cognition causes my mind to pick up pace.

I wear and tear.

They can see it in my face.

So I figured, my search for this place, is enough work.

There, but absent
You fill my lungs
I take you in, you take me out
Always on my mind, you keep me high
My surroundings are nothing but haze
All I can see is you
Smothering the air in the room
Bathed in your gentle, wispy kisses
You keep me on Cloud 9

I am afraid of what I want.

The longing for eternal slumber only grows

But I don’t have the courage to ravage the deepest layers of myself

Or the drive to find the most lethal combination of chemicals.

I am afraid of the consequences that would follow my failed efforts.

I can’t face anyone now as it is

So I know

I couldn’t bear the damp, questioned looks I’d recieve in the bed of a frigid, steril room.

Maybe my view is up side down

On life, on myself, on you

Maybe even twisted

The glass is not half empty or half full

I can’t tell anymore

The daisies we pushed are now wilted

And this love I receive seems restricted and guilted

The grip on my glass has slipped and it’s tilted

Upside down like my view, the contents of myself spill

The everyone will see I am ill.