The idea of living without you terrifies me so much
that I have to do it.
I want to tell you but the words sit in my stomach
like bombs.

I don't want to lose who I love,
just to get a temporary satisfaction,
but after a while my pain went numb.
We'd fight and your words became knives that
  no longer cut.
I no longer felt the need to baby your feelings,
didn't care what was up.

Yet a familiar love has kept me around.
Because our love is like walking down the same alley,
getting mugged 8 times in a row,
hoping there will be something different
about today.

And today,
thoughts of you are like a pinch
in a numb place under my heart.
And I'm not sure if I should stay.

That's what you used to call me
Always with the smirk on your face,
and the squint in your eye.
Leaving traces of your love across my thighs.
You'd hold me by the throat
I loved it cause I wanted to die.
Because I couldn't cope
that I fed you with my lies.
You didn't deserve my ****
and you haven't been the same since.
You'd go through the pain as long as I stayed.
So beside you I laid in order to keep you sane.
But I continued to use you,
was honest and told you I was doing so.
Told you I needed to leave you,
cause I was only going to keep hurting you more.
Your response was telling me you loved me,
I started to tear up, told you you're delusional.
You grabbed me by the face and kissed me,
attempted to get sensual.
But I just had to walk away.
I knew I couldn't stay.
I hope you'll one day forgive me
for not being in your life.
Forgive me for the confusion
and the strife.
"****!"
That's what you yelled when I closed the door.
I'm sorry I don't need you anymore.

Depression hit in the A.M.
Feeling on edge,
like I'm meant to be in an asylum.
Tears flooded my cheeks and my fists clenched.
A flashback with a razor played in my head;
a memory that wasn't meant to be missed.
But Déjà vu came into play when I grabbed the sharpest knife
with the most painful ridges to rid my inner strife.
I pressed it deep into my skin
but my skin wouldn't slit.
I kept trying, grinding the blade against my wrist.
Feeling all the pain yet it wouldn't budge;
I knew there had to be somebody watching over me from above.
So I put back the most dangerous knife,
that only left the slightest bump,
to remind me I deserve to go on with life;
there's no need to be rough.
So this one's to my God, and the angels surrounding me,
thank you for the love and protection.
I was blind to it but now I see.

I'm not liking the thought of looking at myself
and seeing all the stress of my mother
and the heavy eyes of my father.
Looking into the mirror and seeing a reflection of myself
a reflection of who's a burden on their shoulders.
I just want to be better.
To be better than my anger within.
My anger towards myself.
My anger towards the 'me' I didn't realize existed.
Wanna leave it all on the shelf.
Wanna writhe myself of this system.
Not sure how to explain my bitter soul
Besides showing you my reflection
of my parents' expressions I stole.