I cut my hair because I was done being sad.
All that weight on my head and shoulders
All that hassle of preserving an illusion
All those memories of her.
I cut it off.

But here I am,
Sad today.

So now what do I cut.

{Voided}

My scars are fading, But I don't think hers ever will.

His fist broke the drywall and paint
Like it was a glass ornament.
His knuckles pulsed
His heart pumped.
His tears built up
And flowed.

My hands start to clench
Fingernails dig into my skin or the skin of a book
And breath goes short.
Thoughts of
Then.
Why couldn’t we stay apart.

I have bloodstains everywhere and
They like to watch me when I sleep.
I can't help their eyes scan over me
And watch for when I bleed.

These greedy bloodstains
These greedy blotches.
The color red waits and
The color red watches.

Go blind.
Go Blind.
GO BLIND.
Grow old and die and watch me from hell.
Because your eyes will tire
And you cannot beat my fire.

My fire is my lyre
And my lyre makes music,
*Not blood.

I'd like to pretend that I'm not better
But I am.
I want to say things that demean myself
But I don't.
I'm better and that's that and I'm not depressed.

I can rely on myself and not others and
Be happy.
I can wake up and fall asleep regularly,
Refreshed.
I can say "Hey look at me or don't" and mean it.

I'm better.