Tell me I'm pretty,
just for me to take days to decide,
if you're lying,

Tell me I'm worth it,
just for me to analyze,
all the reasons I do(n't) have to keep trying,

Tell me it'll all get better,
just for me to cry for hours,
wondering when,

Try to change my perspective,
only to fail,
and make it look hopeless ,

Because this,
is what imperfection sounds like,
from a shattered perspective.

What is life? Is there a cause? A meaning of some sort? Do we all just wake up to not know whether we live or die? Because that's what it seems like. Do I even matter? Does my life make an impact, on anyone, anything? Or am I just a waste of space, meant to fade into the background and be another nothing..? Was I ever a something ?
In the past 10 minutes, I've faced the questions I never knew I thought about. The worst part is, I don't have an answer. To any of them. Nor do I know if I ever will. My next question is.. Should I just end it now?
Would it even matter? Would anyone care? Would they even realize that I no longer exist? Did I ever really exist? Was I ever loved? If so, what did I miss? Was I ever truly happy? Because I know Im not now.
All these questions I'm asking, I never knew I thought about. But I know now, that they were always in the back of my mind, just waiting to be triggered. Just waiting to come out.
Was waking up this morning even worth it? Yesterday I was happy, yesterday I wanted to see today, but now, I want nothing. I am nothing. I've always been nothing. Right now, I know I'm alive, but, I'm wondering.. What reason do I have to stay that way?

Sleep eludes me,
so I stay up all night,
and think,

As time passes,
I begin to examine my wrists,
and discover something quite remarkable,

In the places,
where marks from past mistakes once laid,
now only ivory skin remains,

Now, as I wait for the sun to come up,
it hits me,
scars do fade, just over time.

I had a dream that you could fly,
with clipped wings,

Despite your disadvantage,
you soared effortlessly,

And at heights,
not even the bravest could fathom,

And this my dear,
is why I truly believe,

That you are an angel,
dressed in the devils clothing.