i want to write my pain out,
but it won't drip through my pen
it's been stuck there for five years,
a rotting clot inside my head.

My heart feels like
it's about to shut down
from all the truths
that only I know

People view me
as kind
selfless
heartfelt
with empathy

Yet once they witness
my darker side
this inner demon
that is always
a few steps behind me

Once they see
the ashes and smeared blood
tainted within my mind and heart

I am once again alone
alone to pick up the pieces 
of a love that never was

There is freedom in isolation,
in being idle and invisible,
where one could sit in muteness,
swim widely in dusk and ask,
"Am I really here,
if no one is around to see?"
A different kind of suicide

There is pleasure in being a shadow,
in pretending you don't exist,
to avoid acting like you do

Solitude isn't a time for me
to let myself free
but rather a time to free myself
from who I am

Outside the confinement of company,
I am anyone and anything,
I am someone else, somewhere else
I am alive,
but I am no one
I am alone

a.r.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Sugar is sweet,
And so are you.
But the Roses have wilted,
And the violets are dead.
The sugar bowl's empty,
And my wrists are stained red.