There are the darkest corners of my soul,
And the shaky hands and 3am tears and panic;
The tense moments and the bittersweet memories.
You have seen all of these and more.
And even though I've given you the key to the front door,
You managed to bust in all the back windows as well.
You've taken me by surprise and burglarized my soul.
And when you lean in to kiss my forehead,
You're really pressing your lips to my heart.
And when you wrap your hand around mine,
Your fingers entwine with my veins.
And when you look at me,
The scars inside me start to fade.
*The scars of my soul start to fade.

There is a moment that will haunt you,
That will break everything you've built up.
When you realize you were born to fly
But your feet are chained to the ground.
And somehow you're living a dream
But you still feel like dying sometimes,
And each day hangs on the edge of a blade.
Now the sun is shining and the birds are singing
And there are pieces of yourself that you will never get back.

You are not your body.
You are not your scars.
You are not your relapses or wide-eyed fears.
You are more than the razor blade.
You are more than your bones.
You are more than your hunger and choked out tears.
You are a soul, a heart, and a light.
You are a friend, a lover, and hope.
So though I may not know you,
I will hold your hand and carry you.
You will win this fight.

I love you.
I hate you.
Leave.
Please don't go.
I am black.
I am white.
I am unbearable hunger
And excruciating fullness.
I am good and evil.
And in my mind, so are you.
Forever one or the other.
I walk the fence between happiness and self hatred.
Between life and death.
I love you.
I hate you.
Leave.
Please don't go.

A chill cuts me to the bone
I shiver before the pale, cold sanctuary.
I rid myself of every feeling of guilt, inadequacy, and almost the sadness.
Ribbons of all shades around my wrists masked by those of red
Secrets that have become all too easy to keep
Scarred knuckles and beads of sweat
A sense of control always wavering on the edge
I fight this war alone.

A million enlightened religious men have said that there is no need to suffer.
That suffering and pain aren't necessary.
But how am I supposed to believe them
When my suffering begins in my own mind?
How dare you tell me I am wrong I my suffering when I am helpless to it?
Sometimes I feel like a fallen leaf in autumn.
Half dead, fragile and on the verge of crumbling,
And always with someone trying their damnedest to step on me,
To hear my crunch under their boot.
It is no fault of mine that I have dried and fallen
Nor is it for the painful crushing under the feet of others.
It is simply my sad misfortune that for some, our very nature is just that:

*Suffering.

She sat tight, attached to her strings,
thinking hard,
She wanted to disappear,
She wanted to break away from these restraints
Holding her back from her freedom.

How long would it take?
How far could she go?
Nobody knew.

She lie helpless,
Watching others pass her by.
I will be there someday, she thought, dreamily.

She walked through blank whiteness,
Then fell into deep darkness,
Gone forever.

Nobody knew where she had gone,
Wondering how she could just disappear,
Being there the day before.

Only I know where she has gone and I must not tell you.
She remains gone today,
The disappearing ******* strings.