It is fair to tell, in a fairy tale,
That the people are trees or Gods,
With each other at peace or at odds.

Look at me with your eyes,
Think about me with your thoughts,
But leave to me all your words.

Two black boxes put together
Are creating a black hole,
With flying colours inside.

As friends go,
Some never come back.

The company is here,
Everything is on the table,
I'm looking around, but don't see me anywhere.

maybe like the moon – a part of them is hidden away
that’s why they always seem to smile
and when all of theirs is visible,
I crave to see their mythical presence

i convinced myself that the lines on my wrists and thighs are my nicest attribute
it’s disgusting
im disgusting
whenever they fade i replace them with a new batch of burning bleeding lines
they look at me with concern in their pupils
but i’m fine i really am
im just a littler prettier with the ugly
leaking out of my putrid body
pale skin with green veins
fading pink lines reminiscent
turning white on my tan thighs
the Xs and the uniform pattern of lines
i didn’t mean to turn out this way
i didnt mean to let myself become disgusting
i cant help wanting to be pretty
greed led me to addiction with ripping myself over and over until my hands are stained with my self hatred