I thought a single line of white dust up your right nostril can numb away the pain
That countless nights of drunken stupors could make me forget
That constantly telling myself I'm just experimenting and not suppressing
Hoping one day I'd forgive him but only finding myself regretting
You see I'm not addicted to the substance
I'm addicted to blame, blaming him for the pain
I'm addicted to the anger, the anger that he triggers when i realize I'm turning into him.

Always intoxicated on some other ailment. Intoxicated on the lustful idea that we could be the perfect pair
but now all i think is how i wasn't good enough, how K & L are your legacy, and I'm just a girl who you once said you loved, but don't bother to acknowledge.

You see dad, I denied my anger for so long
Said it was all in my head
but now i realize, I forgive you, because the more hate i fuel the more hate i feel

Is it too late?

YOU'RE TO DEPRESSING

His words haunted over me as if death had become my guardian angel.
Endless years of basic training, constantly asking if this is a battle you want to fight.
Only to be left on the front line alone with nothing but a knife carved from lies, lodged in my spine.
Your flirtation quickly change to manipulation.
Thanks for "putting up with me" while i got the help i needed,
i mean after all you dated me while i was addicted to drugs,
and you made it known.
Throwing my past in my face,
looking down at me like some DISGRACEFUL ******
You said you loved me.
Now I know.

It's a secret art
A hidden talent
The amount of time and precision I put into it
Hiding the tools from others so they cant know
Waiting for the right moment
Turning the pale, beautiful canvas into a bleeding portrait Picasso would be proud of
Dwelling over it for days
Spending every night
Planning when and how
The torture builds up until your creativity explodes
Hands trembling
Body numb
and your brain gone
but you are still able to create those strategic lines on the pale **** canvas

Breathe
Inhale
Exhale

20 years on the god forsaken planet and i forgot how to breathe
Constantly grasping for a life guard,
not because i cant swim
no
more like, well lets put it this way
I'm an Olympic athlete, or at least so i tell myself i should be
I must swim like i've been doing it my whole life
but i just started trying a week ago
so why am i not a pro?

Everyday we put this extreme expectation on ourselves
expecting to climb mountains when we spend the past 3 years smoking a pack a day

Think about that

We would never get mad at someone if they lost a race when they have broken legs

So why get mad at yourself when you just cant today

"why cant you get out of bed"
"Why are you so lazy"
"No one wants to see your ugly face"

Over
and
over
and
over
again

Breathe**

Inhale
Exhale

"it will be okay"
"Practice hard everyday and you can be an Olympic athlete"
"Practice Everyday and you can learn to love yourself"
"Practice everyday and those overbearing thoughts will soon drown themselves in the flow of self love"

Inhale
Exhale

a wolf
hiding in the skin of a sheep
creeping in the dark
making me unable to sleep

they say if you count sheep you will fall asleep faster
but I find as I count sheep I only become more lost in the pasture
walking through wheat fields searching for a meaning
insomnia slowly killing me brining me to a yield

Im standing on the edge of life and death
wishing that wolf in sheep skin would have taken my last breath
saving me from the dark caves in my brain
making me feel like living is worth the pain

4 years old, and already knowing the harsh reality
4 years old, and cleaning up the tears and broken glass he left behind
4 years old, and already a pro at telling people whatever they want to hear over what they should in hopes they don't lash out

See I was just a kid when my mother crawled into my room bawling her eyes out which shed never hope id see
I was just a kid helping my mother hide from the love of her life, helping her push a dresser against the door praying he wouldn't break it down

see at for years old you should be watching cartoons
not watching your mother cry.
you should be scared of the boogie man, not the man 2 rooms over who claims to love you
but every time you tell him to stop
he ignores you!

"Im not getting bad again, I promise"
I repeat to myself any time I feel down
as if having a bad day isn't allowed when depression hangs its cloak over you like a coat rack
Im not bad im just a little sad....
but then they ask are you sure,
so the two sides of my brain start to brave the battle of paranoia
and instead of concluding with joy
im constantly lost in the limbo
trying to find a ploy out of this crypto