Blackness,
like velvet.
The room floats,
as my eyes flutter shut.
Warmth seeps through me,
as I fall into a shallow sleep.
Breathing,
light, like trickling water,
of a babbling brook.
This is where the party ends,
sleep wash away my impurity,
and hit me with a hangover.

Pain pills
are not
your friends.
they will not
take away
regret.

Hollow.
like veins that no longer support blood flow.
my mind is the canvas in which I destroy spirit.
I'm no longer harboring what it feels like to be alone.

The feeling is like bones breaking,
under the weight of the guilt that pins you down.
eyes lifeless like stone statues.
there is no creativity left in this vessel
only wrists that itch and fingers that shake
at the thought of being any where near the state
in which I am anything other than truthful
and that is happy.

Its overrated really.
Fake.
Processed and practiced.
Scripted.
Happiness is the mere idea
that the world is anything more than
what it will never be capable of.
Like me.

I'm just proving to the world
that backs don't break with the weight
of insanity on your shoulders.

I never had anything to give,
and now I no longer have the strength
to take back what was originally mine.
My self worth was stolen by your vicious words
and how I saw through the stare you held.
It said sadness..
but I know it was only masking hatred.

You think you're hiding
behind your own problems.
the fact that you had dreams no longer
stops me from believing that
you led yourself to your own downfall.
It was never my fault
that you couldn't make yourself
into who you wished to be.
Who you still wish you were.
No. My small body had nothing to do
with your inner demise.
You'd just like to believe that
to mask the truth of it.

You'd given up long before I was even thought of

Maybe, its time I tell you,
maybe its time to speak up.
I'm no longer in a stage where,
your voice pops up in my head,
and makes me wonder where you are.
what you're doing.
with whom.
or why.

Your name no longer sends me into
fits of remorse, nor anger.
The harshness of what you now think of me,
no longer stops me in my tracks.
I don't ask myself what you would think,
because I know you don't care,
and also, I don't need you to.
I'm my own person and you wanted to change that.
You wanted to change me.
Recreate me to fit the image,
of what you always dreamed.
No longer do I ponder upon decisions,
based on how your feelings would apply.
No. I'm no longer a slave to your feelings.

Now, I'm simply me.
I do what I want, how I want, and when I want it,
and theres no one to stop me.
I indulge in nicotine, and don't get the third degree for it.
I'm accepted as I am and I like it.
I'm no longer yours to control, and I'm in love with it.