I hear the whispering again, a soft spoken voice.
Creeping into my ear and making me feel conflicted on whether I should rejoice.

Are you my savior or the spawn of the hell I've been dealing with lately?
Are you going to rid my pain with the words you utter to me?

She doesn't answer my questions, just states what she says.
Taunting me with her hollow lips and her non-existent face.

I'm in constant fear, but I also adore her.
Her; is that her name or is she just my mind's blur?

I want to ask, but she doesn't answer me back.
Yet her presence makes my mind’s vision lack.

I don't know who she is, maybe a figment from my cerebral?
Though, I have to abide to what she says; she'll threaten me with something lethal.

She wants to tell me so many things, she told me I had to know.
She acts like an angel, but I guess it's just for show.

She turns her back, and her wings are dipped in an ink of black.
She sits in front of me with a razor cupped in her hand; her smile makes my skull crack.

She says I'm in danger, is she talking about herself?
I can't ask questions, yet the curiosity engulfs.

She is always there, perched beside my ear.
"Soon the pain will go away my dear."

She's so loud, yet her whispers crawl through my skin.
"Loud Silence." she tells me with a grin.

Her voice is constantly in a whir.
My brain, her home, it's all for Her.


it 's  ju st
He r. H er. Her . H
e r. H er.
H e r .

I've been in a predicament for awhile now.
A war waged within myself.
I'm so tired of waking up nowadays.
But I can't sleep at night either.
I feel the sharp stomach pains once again.
I'd expect them to make an appearance on my arms.  
I'm starting to hear the whispers more often.
I'm left to wonder if they're my friends or not.
The anxiety has gotten worse since.
I can't breathe and my eyes well up with tears.
The weights become heavier the more I move.
I dread getting up for school.
I feel like everything is closing in.
My skin is burning red.
I feel like my skin is peeling off from my face.
I feel exposed and uncovered.
The loneliness is killing me again.
I really wish I made friends here.
My heart still hurts from my ex lover's words.
But it's also everyone's doings.
I'm left to wonder why I get so happy.
And then I suddenly crash back down.
I feel like I need to rid myself from this pain.
But I'm such a coward to let everything go.
I feel my skin turning cold and numb.
Is it my provoked veins or is it...
...

**** it, I stayed too long in the shower again.

It seems like everyone just wants to disappear.
left alone, secluded, isolated from what is far and near.

It seems like everyone just wants to be thought about.
Have people wonder where they are or what they’re doing, but no one can get the secrets out.

It seems like everyone just wants some time alone.
To take a breath of fresh air and heal the wounds that haven’t been sewn.

It seems like everyone just wants to run away from their problems.
Hiding behind wooden doors and glass screens, wanting out from the hell it stemmed from.

It seems like everyone just wants to concentrate on their dreams.
Hidden in another dark house while the other is waiting to pop the party streams.

It seems like everyone just wants to let go.
But they struggle to take out the knife that pierced their heart from the person that loved them so.


I want to disappear.
left alone, secluded, isolated, but I’m too scared to lose the people that are far and near.

I want to be thought about.
Have people wonder what I’m doing or how I am, but no one cares enough to get my secrets out.

I want some time alone.
But every time I’m alone, I’m engulfed in an overcast of shadows reminding me of the wounds that I have never sewn.

I want to run away from my problems.
But there’s always so much more coming and every corner is another hell where it’s stemming from.

I want to concentrate on my dreams.
But I can’t sleep, I get nightmares; I cant breathe, I never asked to, and I know wherever I’ll go, they’ll welcome my death in with popped party streams.

I want to let go.
But I keep twisting the knife in my heart that has been severely wounded by many who claimed they loved me so.


So I go on a hiatus, and give the perception that I’m not here.
So that people wont care when I take my own life, and I wont have to second guess my fear.

He wants to pretend that last night was on the timeline of never.
But he forgets to remember that I’m an overthinker.
Drinking the venom that forms on his mouth.
Letting it spread into my veins until it numbs my capability to make words come out.
Tangled in his web of lies, waiting patiently to let him bite my head off.
Beaten up by his uncontrollable anger until I’m left in gravel with a ****** spit and a hoarse cough.
Standing at the very end of the line of dominoes he purposefully toppled over.
Unsure of his motives to hurt me, I don't think the pain will get any better.

I don't know what I did wrong for him to hate the person he used to love so dearly.
I feel death will be the bandage for the knife wounds he left in my heart so merely.
I wish he knew how much it hurts and how much I cry.
But to him, it's just another day passing by.

I'm beginning to see my brittle bones make an appearance through my fragile skin.
I can see the curvature of my bones and where the connections begin.
I fear that the lack of my appetite will soon turn me dry of food and water.
And my mind and body will begin to weaken and  my perception will alter.
I numbingly watch the vultures circle around me under bright lights.
I want to cry as I listen to them say they loved me with all their might.
And they'll want to know how could I have possibly done such a thing.
Not realizing my lonely sessions consisted of my disorder to binge.
I can not chew without getting the sickening feeling of nausea.
I'd plainly just rather not eat until I pass out into euphoria.
Wake up sick once again, and the cycle repeats.
I lay weak in bed wondering when my disorder will put me into defeat.
I believe that is my goal, to torture myself in the ways that I can so I can go away.
Vulnerable in front of a mirror, wishing I can be put into the earth to lay.
I am weathering away, day by day, night by night, tracing the bones of my rib cage.
I can't eat, it will all come back up in a violent rage.
The growing pain residing in my stomach hurts.
But if it promises me death, I want to stay in this desert.

seasons change, but I remain the same.
A feel of the frost that lingers in my hands, leaving a numbness to idly caress them.
A taste of the scorching heat that singes my tongue black, spewing out fire like an angered dragon hungry for tears.
A view of heavy storms or sunny days, confusion of feelings that leads to frustration and outbursts.
A sound of leaves crunching on the ground, wishing I could just fall and be crushed down to nothing but dust.
A smell of each holiday transitioning to the next, leaving me to wonder when I will to.
And yet, the seasons go by so quickly, and I am stuck in time.
I am stuck in a place where people keep moving on while I’m confined to just watch the seasons go by.
I can not move.