I almost ran out of my seat
Due to the feeling of
Vile coming up my
Throat.

But, I cannot tell wether
It is because I am hungry
Or if I am too stressed.

Maybe it is just a
Mixture of both.

Bukowski said what matters most
Is how well you walk through fire
But I've been wandering hell for months
And I dont think anyone has even noticed
Maybe it is I who doesnt matter
Maybe the burns are only skin deep

Its so much easier to cry in the dark
Why?
You may ask
Well, I feel like a black hole
Devoid of air
Everything beautiful gets dragged down
Down into the deepest hole of my chest
My greedy sorrowed soul
Searching for an eternal light
Something I can grasp onto that wont break off
That I wont drag down or push away
Flowers trying to grow along the base of my skull
Trying to sprout through the toxic darkness that lingers

Its so dull inside my head
Everything in me as charcoal gold
What I am implying is

When its pitch black I am one with the dark
And my soul.
Theres nothing I can poison or destroy

Thats why its so much easier to cry in the dark

Hell* is at my door
knocking in some rhetorical rhyme
mimicking the voices
inside my head

"Get out of my ******* house"
screams my fathers voice
as his fist hits the yellow walls
of our dainty but quaint kitchen.

"You're just going to end up pregnant"
my mothers shill voice cries out
reminiscing in her past mistakes
blaming me for her horrible life.

"I was just your friend because i felt bad for you"
whined my best friend of ten years
swearing up and down
that I was a jealous, no good, compulsive liar.

"It just wasn't meant to be"
his voice echoed to my soul
breaking me down piece by piece
and walking away forever

My own personal hell
trapping me in the confines of the people I love the most
Haunting me with their displeasure
tormenting me to death

But death sounds like the perfect escape
away from this profane hell
occupying my home, mind, soul, and heart
who's still knocking at my door.

One by one
My petals fell
And I gradually
Became a ****

My beautiful flower
That blossomed and bloomed
Wilted over the seasons
That you controlled

I thrived through spring
Flourished in the summer
Drooped in the fall
And faded into nothing in the winter

A rose full of life
Vivid with color
Became an eye sore
Amongst the other flowers

Now I am nothing
But a useless, ugly ****
Deprived of life and love
And from my only sun

Saying "I love you"
To hear it back from your lips
A reassurance

I am the spawn
Of a defective *****
And a reluctant egg
If there is a God
I'm sure he took
The utmost care
With his needle and thread
Because everyone will reap what they sow
And all I am is flaws
Stitched together
With good intentions
Because all my life
I've only ever had
Good intentions
And my heart is so full
Of love for other people
That there is none left for me
Let's talk Biology
There are over 37 trillion cells in a human body
That's ******* amazing
And every single cell is working with
A common purpose:
To keep you alive
So knowing that
Why do I so often find myself
Crying until I fall asleep
With thoughts that It would be better
If I didn't wake?
I also know the brain itself
Cannot feel pain
So maybe
My brain doesn't know
What it's doing to itself
As wicked thoughts
Dance from every synapse
Maybe it just has
Good intentions
Maybe my words could change someone
Maybe the letters I stitch so carefully
Could have some ounce of an impact on someone
And that's all I've ever wanted
But my thoughts will remain like hermits
Locked in a cage with no key
While I continue on with my good intentions
Because the road to hell
Has always been paved
By those with
Good intentions