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

Oh darling don't mind me and my twisted thoughts
It's not like you bothered to check before
So I'll down this bottle of Crown alone
Just like the one I did 20 minutes ago
To get as far gone as I can
Maybe I'll call you and confess what I've always wanted to say
After all, sober thoughts have never really done me much good.

Downing bottle after bottle sounds more appealing
Than you telling me you don't love me anymore

Five months
Five months since I almost ended it all
Five months since I almost left the earth
Five months since I tried to swallow a whole bottle of pills
Five months since my mom stopped me, saved me

Five months
153 days
Since I tried to **** myself

"my life hang as a tightrope of words that I've created
along the way,
and you all stood there
as ring masters of this perfectly orchestrated circus;
smiling and clapping,
eyes never leaving as I took every step;
waiting for me to make one small mistake,
and I am excruciatingly trying so hard not to trip, not to fall,
but my feet are now sore, and I'm slowly losing my balance;
one can only take so much before they break, love.
and trust me, I'm about to."