My periods turn to semicolons
My suicide notes to poetry
My goodbyes became hellos
The blades turn to sunflowers
And the bullets, a rose
My heart still is broken
But the pieces have been found
Death isn’t for me anymore
What is, in the here and now
I still don’t feel enough
But I am alive
And that’s enough to say
Today is not the day I die.

the voices keep getting louder
the wall comes up too slow
there is no divison between us
her words are now my own

Them: Why is he alone?
Me: I'm with everyone who loves me


Them: Why is he sad?
Me: It's the only emotion I have left


Them: Why is he crying?
Me: It lets me know I can still feel


Them: Why is he in pain?
Me: It let's me know I'm alive


Them: Why does he smile?
Me: There's nothing else I can do


Them: Why didn't he say something?
Me: I did. You just didn't listen.


Them: Why did he have to do that? Why?

6 muffins down
Binging is my new toy
Sliced butter
Guess it’s better than
Sliced skin

'Here lies that sad girl and her scars'
Those words hovered over my head.
I giggled slightly,
Sick to my stomach.
Lumps upon lumps form in my throat.
As I welcome euphoria, my friend!

'Here lies that sad girl and her scars'
Sick thoughts, don't you think?
Oh! What do you care!
I'm falling in a blink.

At that moment,
I remembered the girl,
With big eyes and concern on her face.


What's that on your arm?

                  mind your ******* business

Oh it's nothing…

Huh?

I was just drawing on my hand with a really sharp (razor) pen and I didn't notice…

Oh wow that's so weird

                                       You have no idea


I wonder if she saw the words on my arm…
Ha! Yes! You guessed it!
As cheesy I can be,
'HELP ME' was carved, quite boldy on my skin.

The girl made me think...
You,
Weird,
Sick,
****.
Why won't you STOP?

So here I lay,
Dipped in ink,
Stripped and bleak.
Worried my shirt might get ruined, ****!

'Here lies that sad girl and her scars'
Watch her as she shivers.
Her friend has gone away.
Who is here to stay?

Broken souls make broken skin - a visual confirmation that the pain inside is real.

The sting of the blade dulls the ache of the tears - matching the outside to the inside - a comfort to sanity in a time of tenuous stability.

It’s not about dying. It’s about peace. It’s about remembering the storm you survived and knowing you are strong enough to do it again.

punish
relieve
hurt
silence

myself
my pain
my skin
my head

One day
///// our scars will heal.
One day
///// our broken hearts will be mended.
One day
///// we won't have to cry at night.
One day
///// everything will be alright.
One day
///// we'll know the colour of the sky.

Don't despair,
///// it will come.
Maybe not tomorrow, but soon.

Until then,
///// come a little closer;
cause lonely people shouldn't be alone.