I looked in the mirror more than 10 times today
Fortunately i was still more or less the same.
I took a breath
"You are not ugly. You are not disfigured."
The voices have soon since been silenced by my persistence and repeated statement
"You look pretty just believe it."

Taking you back
Back to a time when time was not time
but merely seconds and hours
And lets not forget minutes
When the only reason i tracked it
Was so i could estimate how long it took
The blade to slide across my skin
The skin to open like flesh off of a peach
The blood to seep up to the surface and drip
The dripping to stop and that crimson substance to dry

Bringing you back to the present
When i track time so i know how long i can lie to myself for
Lie to myself before the real me shows up
Before the ugly rears its sightly face

In my head there's a masquerade ball
The masks are not fancy and embroidered
The masks are simply smiling faces
Laughing faces
Any and every face that to me
Is beautiful
However underneath them is the same
'Hunchback of Notre dame' situation facially and otherwise

Remember that time when you thought you were ugly
If ever you did
But someone made you beautiful
Forever that is

I still wait for that moment like a widowing wife waiting
Waiting to hear that her lover isn't gone forever.

There is that stupid song that comes on all the **** time and
i can't help but think of you,
even if you broke my heart and made me cry.

It makes me remember that once upon a time you were the reason
there was a smile on my face,
and the butterflies in my tummy.

The butterflies have died now,
and my smile is a frown,
but you wouldn't know that would you?

You told me you loved me
and i believed you,
but you picked her and reminded me all the time.

Now she's left you and i'm still here,
but you can't even see me anymore.

Next time don't say it if you don't mean it,
and don't make me fall if you won't catch me.

Now i'm listening to that song and i can't help
but love you more....

i keep running

i keep running away from everyone,
the scars on my arms grow more and more and i fear
a time when i no longer have space to accommodate more.

i keep running from myself,
trying not to think myself real
i can't be real,
because if i were real then surely i should feel.

i keep running back to my blades and letting my tears turn to blood,
i keep running back to the voices in  the dark telling me i don't belong and need to leave.

i don't think i want to stop running,
because when i stop running
the madness will end.