Cut into her skin to see what she’s made of

    Her bones shake with noise

    Her heart beats a rhythm

    Her blood flows to a melody that escapes

        with every slice of her vein

Though they say she’s beautiful

They don’t see the scars of battle

    There is no peacetime in this war.

She’s tired.

They say “keep fighting”

    but they don’t know

        that she gave up long ago

You see, there is a monster that can’t be killed.

It will win in the end

No matter how much she puts in.

This is no fight.

It is a bloodbath

    There is no coming back.

Capsules unload down her throat and her eyes close

She’s tired.

She swallows the poison with no hesitation

    and lays on her bed

        whiskey by her head.

She never knew the appeal of the drink

    but figured it would do the trick.

All she ever wanted in life was the sleep when she was sick.

They told her she was born with illness in her mind

    and too much compassion.

They said she should look out for herself

    so she looked into her heart

She saw the exhaustion and knew what to do.

She fell asleep and will never come to.

I don't need scars to prove I have a beating heart
and I don't need lines to make me divine
My life is just beginning
and the world won't stop spinning
Look up at the sun
and see that we are one
my palms are wet
my eyes are sweating
but my mind is racing through every setting.
Time won't give you a second to breathe
You have to make a move and not fall off your seat
Listen to what the wise man said back then
"You're more than your scars and the tools used to make them."

We all have this pretense of perfection.
No one wants to believe in flaws.

We are pushed to be perfect.
Pushed so hard.
Pushed too far.

Reaching perfection
Is like touching the sky.

Always the goal
Not ever probable.

Many think that perfection is a dream.
Instead, it's a nightmare.

A nightmare we wake up crying from.

Love is the beginning and the end.

Perfection is a nice image
But never believe that it will happen.

Every day we get closer to perfection
And yet, we will never be as close
As we are right now.

Walking up to the big beautiful house.
a mansion of sorts.
Open the door, revel in the amazing novelties in each room.
The bookshelf.
The big piano.
The grand staircase.
The host tells her to head up to her quarters.
Up the stairs she floats
her head in a daze from the extravagance surrounding her.
Into the room that could fit a barn,
she gazes around.
Her eyes glance over
the desk
the armoire
the windows with a view
the doors to the bathroom
finally,
the giant bed.
white sheets
white pillows
white blankets
pure, fine, snowy.
Her legs blur and she bounds into the bed.
As she snuggles in,
her heart drops.
She hates it here.
She wants to leave.
The door locks behind her.
She calls for the host.
Screams to be released.
Demands to leave the beast.
But the beast will never leave.
He begins to come alive.
She sees a kitchen knife.
Suddenly, she, herself, is the enemy.
The beast tells her what to do.
get the legs, the arms, ribs and face, too.
Her body drains, every second is another pint.
Her breath smells of blood
Her hair matted, but
She finally finds peace.
She remembers how she loves the beast.
But no.
She can't stay.
What of her friends?
She can't leave the devastation behind.
These lives are more than a tweak of the spine.
Her ****** knees shake
Her gashed elbows tremble
They need me! They need me! It's not this simple!
As I awake from this dream
I know what I need.
I feel my heart beat
as even my eyes bleed.

Let me start
by setting the scene.
Look around.
They're not what they seem.

I've grown to know them,
grown to love them.
I learned to show them,
had to help them.

You learn to listen.
You learn to not judge.
In this hospital of sorts,
you see you're not alone.

There's the Angry,
the Sad,
the Scared,
the Mad

However.

We're not crazy.
Try to see their past.
No one's really as different
As the name taped on their back.

Those who tell someone to die
Are the ones that we should take into our arms
And hold
They are the ones we should
Search the eyes of
To find what they are really thinking and feeling
Because they are the ones
Who have lost their minds
And we the ones who want to die
Are the ones who are sane
The ones who see the world as it is
We are the only people who can help

I am left with shreds of memories.
The time spent in solitude
with you proves
only one thing.

Little instances held onto
like a child's hand dangling
from a cliff.
Sweat mingles and loosens our grip.
Passionate.

We are losing,
Never mind, I am losing.