i was told to do something positive with my thoughts
like writing them down on paper
as if somehow that would mean that they are no longer inside of me
but even after all of those pathetic letters were crafted into words that got scrambled across the page
every single thought is still trapped in my mind, begging to be let out
so now i am being forced to use a silver blade as a pen and my fragile wrist as the paper
in hopes that these viscious thoughts will flow out of my veins with the blood that drips down to the floor

i used to see you
in every breathtaking sunset
and the flowing waves of the ocean
but now i only see you
in dead flowers
and shattered mirrors

i stare at my veins
transporting blood through my arm
and down to my wrist
and i cant help but wonder
how you injected your poison into them
without leaving any visible evidence that you broke the skin
which i had roughened in hopes it would protect me
from a monster like you hurting me again

i was told to do something positive with my thoughts
like writing them down on paper
as if somehow that would mean that they are no longer inside of me
but even after all of those pathetic letters were crafted into words that got scrambled across the page
every single thought is still trapped in my mind, begging to be let out
so now i am being forced to use a silver blade as a pen and my fragile wrist as the paper
in hopes that these viscious thoughts will flow out of my veins with the blood that drips down to the floor

real loneliness is not only felt when alone
real loneliness is something you feel in your soul
and it creeps into your bones

four months later
eight shots in
and i'm still trying to forget
the way my name sounded
as it rolled off of your tongue