I like to imagine flowers dying.
it explains to me that even if we were all beautiful and perfect, we would still wither and die

DEMONS
DEMONS
I feel like I can hear them
but they are not whispering.
the screams are peircing my ears during the middle of the stone cold night.
their faces are horrific
but they have pretty smiles.
theyre quite big, yet they walk for miles.
I know they walk because im followed everywhere I go.
I act like theyre not there and play pretend.
the funny thing is I used to call these demons friends.

the morning coffee brews in a *** with scrapes and scratches
I can smell the cocoa beans and the caramel marrying each other and becoming one.
blue jays sing their harp-like songs, while the willow trees sway in a sweet smelling breeze.
the sky is opening up to me and telling me its secrets and stories.
THEN I WAKE UP
now its opposite and dreary
its raining outside
the thunder and lightning marry each other and become one loud abusive relationship.
the birds are hiding from the commotion of nature that consumes them completely.
the beat of my heart begins to slow down...
and this is my good morning

passionate kisses
a warm embrace
smooth skin
the touching of the face.
this is now just a **** memory.
but it's as close as ill ever be.
every detail of your face is engraved into my mind.
your full lips
your nice hips
and the smile that never goes away.

faking a smile isnt working anymore
neither is wearing long sleeves to cover the scars.
I just want to be happy
and also not have to weigh myself everyday
not have to count the calories or refuse the food I love to eat
I want to be me
but society does not allow that

hangman is a game we all used to play
but do we know the real meaning of the game?
some words will hurt
some will be the trigger to the gun
some with be the knot thats tied in the rope
some will be the sharp edge of the blade
and some will be the death of me

if I starve myself my bones will show
if I cut my thighs no one will know
theyll check your wrist for cuts and scars
but none will mend the broken heart.
ill pop the pills and die real slow.
quietly, so no one will know.

im alone...
in a an abandoned factory.
with lights so dim only a cats eye could see.
I can hear the chains clicking
while the light flickers in the distance.
the air is hot and choking me
my hair's falling out and so are my teeth..
im describing my disease,
which is basically consuming me.
the scale is God
food is the devil
and I have sinned

im the calm before the storm.
I try to cover all my drama then bring it to you
like opening a beatifully wrapped gift to find out there was only underwear inside
but not just any underwear
ones that are torn and distressed, but not from being worn
its from being passed on from friend to friend.
I wish I had a new gift but this is all I have to offer.
maybe if I didnt always have to give the gift could stay at rest.

friendship is a constant battle between too little and too much
like how much do I tell her
if we seperate will she tell
will she break my heart one day
and how do I trust her so easily

this is my last and final goodbye
as I write this I think of the times you made me cry.
with your hurtful words
and your loving smile to others
the leather belt that struck my back and left the open wounds
the hot iron on my arm when I talked back
and the fist against my skull if I did something wrong.
love me, to mom