this is not some love story
a boy will not come and save you and he will not kiss the scars on your thighs.

this is not a movie
someone isn't going to save you from your demons,
or think your illness and addiction is beautiful.

this is not a fairytale
you will not save yourself from the voices,
or the jabbing pain in your stomach
or the shaking of your body for that quick release.

this is real life
and nothing will save you except for the pills that the doctors put you on that helps you with your mood swings, and unwillingness to get out if bed every morning.  

this is not poetry.

self harm scars are not lovely.
sadness is not beautiful.
and demons are not glorious.
stop trying to make mental illness a great thing to have.
so if you glorify self harm and sadness, stop being a ******* ******* because it isn't ******* beautiful.

nothing is beautiful about voices in your mind that tell you to take a blade to your skin, and nothing is beautiful about morning rolling around and you contemplate being "sick", or jumping out into traffic just in time to get hit by a bus just so you can escape life.
this is not beautiful.

I have walked a million different miles
To get to where you stand
And now that I am here
With my soar feet and tired soul
I realize that in the end
It was all worth it

I'm (totally) making you fall for me.
      Because I broke your legs.

I'm (totally) going to ruin you.
      Because of this thing called love.

I'm (totally) where you'll least expect it from.
      Because I worked my way into your heart.

I'm (totally) tearing you apart from the inside.
      Because it's what I've always done.

I'm (totally) so done with you.
      Because now you're just a corpse.

If you were a candle, I'd burn myself.
If you were a knife, I'd cut myself.
If you were a noose, I'd hang myself.
If you were the eighth deadly sin,
      I'd spend eternity in flame.
Instead, you're a human being.
      And I've never felt more pain.