A lingering melody from a metallic vibrating needle machine,
sings in my eardrums.
Thoughts become art,
melted in Ink.
Descending into my epidermis.
As pain travels and escapes through my body.
My face molds and breaks into minuscule painful multiple aches of gestures within every ardent minute.
As the artist cuts into the brain of fiction.
Dipping his metallic paint brush machine into it's blood.
And carving aesthetic realism into his human canvas.

It doesn't help when people say: all I can tell you is to get over it or not let them get to you.

I know that. I know I shouldn't let people get to me.

Don't you think I ******* know that?

But I can't block it out.

Believe me I wish I ******* could but I can't.

I drove by some light poles on a street at midnight tonight, and I thought about hitting them.

This isn't the first time that thought has popped into my head but this is the first time that I almost did it.

I thought about crashing my car so that maybe I could stop it all.

Maybe I could just stop feeling everything so ******* much.

What used to be a place where I felt safe and happy has now been burnt to the ground and is a place I don't feel like going back too.

Things that made me feel good are being ruined for me because of the environment I can't escape.

People I used to want to hug and talk to in the late hours of the night I now want to run and hide from so that I don't have to think about how badly they treated me and how I was stupid to forgive them.

I want to lay down and not wake up and have to face this stupid world and everything in it that is trying to rip me apart.

I have cried every day this week.

I have tried to ask for help from so many people.

No one really listened.

No one knew how to respond to me.

No one can help me.

I am alone and I can't handle it anymore.

I have an addiction
I cut and burn myself
It's not that I want attention
But for those of you who don't know this
The world is a huge tragedy
Filled with sadness and depression
And alot of times you won't feel loved
So you'll hurt yourself to feel something
Or maybe this is just an exaggeration

Third time writing you a letter,  
trying to create a poem that is endless like the sand on the beach
or riding down the streets.
Hate is always hard to forget
and happiness is a moment to reminisce.
Why can't time move forward,
so I can be with you to be over it.
Oh, the things I would do to you.
******* you to your skin at the right que.
I miss how the sun shines on your hair.
Like a clear window with a glare.
I always want to write you love songs.
But I just end up writing you poems.
It's okay baby you won't hear my sorrows.
I'll hide them with these flowers.
I don't want our love to disappear.
Because I know when I see you it will reappear.
It's so clear..
But fear is always near..