It’s day 247 and you’re still breathing. You tried to cheat the game of life, but it punishes you for trying to avoid the rules of the game. You tried drowning your sorrows with pills, but woke up in a hospital bed to the beeping of your heart. That **** noise haunting you because your heart's still singing the melody of your life. You tried hanging yourself in your haunting closet, and woke up in the same position with a progressing bruise around your neck. Still depressed, still alive.  You cut your waist into pieces but your body sewed the pieces right back up. You’re left with the scars, and they just remind you of  how hideous you are. The voices in your head get off on your pain, and all you’re doing is feeding them while starving yourself. They want to see you struggle, they want to see you sad. They know you have a long while till nature diffuses your atoms, and they want you to suffer. They want you to never enjoy your life because they never get to live besides through you. Quit starving yourself and starve your depression.

As soon as I awoke, I felt as if needles were being pushed all throughout my body. I’m facedown on the side of a cold, gravel road. I reach up my hands to wipe the crust from out of my eyes, and am astonished when blood trickles on my fingers instead. It seemed as if the pebbles on the road had more color to themselves than my lifeless body.
I look around to catch a glimpse of where I am, but I can not even remember my name. I scream for help, but satan’s hands wrap around my neck to keep me in silence. I’m lost. I’m alone; and can’t even remember a place to go.
With what little strength I have left, I limp down the road with only one shoe on. I feel as if I’ve traveled down this road my entire life, but it just doesn’t look the same anymore. I walk as far as I can until I stumble upon my own legs and tumble to the ground.
I lie there in pain thinking this is the end. In a warming sunflower field my body rests, and my breath sings along with the wind. My heartbeat dances to the song nature is singing. Before I close my eyes I notice a lonesome shoe on the road. This must’ve been the beginning and is now the end. I close my eyes for permanent this time, and whisper my last breath; “Death is the most peace, I’ve ever felt.”

I am from the stars in the night sky
A child of the cosmos
I am from the hands of the creator
At one with all his creations
I am from the void
For its tears poured me down
I am from my own breath
Giving me the very life I live
I am from the woven fabric of the universe soaked in love
So forever I shall love and be loved

From the beginning
To the end,
Every flesh and bone is bleeding of complicity;
Complying in the devil’s work of
To be and not to be.

A paradoxical impression
to be a conspicuous painting,
While given a restriction of colors
Consisting only of
The grey shades on each lost souls tombstones,
Pure whites like the snow that goes up an addict's nose,
and the dull blackness that posses a smokers' lungs.

Society pushes one to be beautiful
Defining beauty in the dullness of originality.
Daring souls search for the rainbows,
While the others
Pull air-tight bags around of the heads
Of those who no longer desire
the breath of flames beyond their feet.

The devil sits on both of my shoulders. The right side thrives off each of my insecurities, while the left side guides me down bottomless pits, putting me in never ending trouble. My demons crawl under my skin, possessing my each and every thought and action. I try to fight it, but the possession takes over my feelings too. Making me enjoy the pain. Enjoy bringing people down to hell, because of how lonesome it gets.
I will manipulate you. I’ll tell you how beautiful you are, while I’m possessing pieces of your heart. I’m going to take each and every piece besides one, so you will still be able to feel the emptiness you have after I stole your heart. Please cry to me, and tell me how much I hurt you. The sadness I caused you turns me on more than you ever did by taking off your pants. You always scream how much you hate me, but my interpretation is more valuable than those three disgusting ******* words: I love you.
I’m ripping you to sheds turning your life into a very hell, while you keep coming back. Pleading for your heart, where I have it stashed with all the others. I never cared about the first one, the second, and so on up to you: and I will never care about the other ones continuing my game after you. You turn into the devil when you let your demons take control, thriving off the suffering of others while you’re locked up in Hell. I can’t care about the pain of others because I’ve been numb for so long.  I’m the  paradox of being the heartless girl with too many hearts.

They did this to me. Do you hear me just take a ******* look at me. I used to be normal I swear I was. I lived in a modern house with a beautiful family; I was beautiful, I wasn’t always this ugly.

The thing about “normal” is that it’s just another stupid label from society. You’re “normal” if you live a life for the pleasure of everyone besides your own good. I was tired of this repetition. Living a life demonstrated around the successful people of society. To clarify when I say successful I mean wealthy, not happy. Maybe it was the unsatisfactory that did this to me, but that unsatisfactory was caused by THEIR standards.

One day It all just snapped. I was staring at a mirror looking into the eyes of the devil. His perfect, clothes, his perfect hair, just all of his perfection. Without any recognition my fist defied gravity and flew in the air, straight into the mirror. Straight into his ****** grin. I sat there laughing. Laughing at the blood on my hand. Laughing at my now externalized pain I’d been holding in for so long. Laughing at my insanity.

I couldn’t play the role of normal after this, so they caught on to me. They feared me because I was a display of their darkest fantasies. However they wouldn’t admit it. Now here I am locked up in an asylum declared insane, all because I questioned the rules of the game.

I woke up like I did every morning. The pores on my skin crying rivers to me for all of the vandalism I put in my body. The nausea in my stomach for all of my unsettling actions. I try to rush to the bathroom to ***** out the rest of the remains, but nothing comes out. Nothing at all. I feel nothing at all.

There’s always been this void inside of me. I tried to distract with the devil himself: drugs. I remember smoking **** in the sixth grade, and telling myself this was the only drug I would ever do. By the time I was fifteen, I had more ******* in my system than I did dopamine. Months went along where I was covering my problems playing in a field full of snow, but it never gave me the justice of feeling whole.

Substance after substance, I failed every time to fill the emptiness gouging inside of my chest. The only thing I experienced out of this catastrophic path was drug addiction. I’d say it was the drugs that made me numb, but I’d been living lifeless beforehand. The drugs were never enough, but this realization never stopped me from going.

I was so tired of living in an infinite nighttime, that I drowned my sorrows with pills this night. I never gave myself the chance to wake up and see the morning sun. Not even death could separate me from my addiction: Filling the Void.