if there's 7 billion candles and one burns out, will get much darker?
why
should
it
make
a
difference
when my light burns out?

Don't
But it helps
Not for long
But it does for now
You'll have scars
My scars tell my story
But there's so much pain involved
I'm already in pain anyways
Won't you regret it?
No, I only regret holding out this long
What will your mother say?
I don't give a ****. She had her chance.
What will the world say?
They can say what they want. I'm done

My leg is a canvas
As I've said before
A canvas to showcase my pain
To show the scars that exist in my mind
Brought to life and close to death
By my brush that is a blade
My pulsing red life
My blood becomes my ink
I write my story in these sharp strokes
My heart is my muse
The pain my motivation
And death is my only buyer

There is a pain
Inside my mind
Much like a migraine
Inside my mind
The pain isn't physical, it's
Inside my mind
At least it used to be solely
Inside my mind
I cut to match the pain
Inside my mind
I now have scars to match
Inside my mind
My leg is a canvas for the thoughts
Inside my mind

Depression is were you want to be alone,
But at the same time you dont want to be lonely.
Depression is where everything is going right,
But you're still sad.
Depression is wanting to go out,
But at the same time not wanting to socialize.
Depression is feeling trapped,
Trapped in your own mind
and no one understands.
Depression is having scars on your thighs and arms,
Scars from the battle you fought.
Depression is having sleepless nights,
Depression is shouting for help,
But no one hears you.
Depression is fighting demons deep
inside you.
Depression is not something to laugh at,                                    
So grow up if you think depression is just an act,
Depression is something serious.

I am an artist,
I paint stories with red ink,
Can I show you a picture,
Can you tell me what you think?

I am an artist,
I paint stories with sharp edges,
I carve into unique places
Some pretty little etches

I am an artist,
I paint stories with death,
She frequently visits me
And takes away my breath

I am an artist,
I paint stories with my skin,
I use a sharp edge,
And a blood red ink