I don't see the problem,
My body is my own,
If I need to let out the pressure,
I'll slice down to the bone.

A friend used to hurt,
Broken mind made body the same,
Emotions controlled her,
No one is to blame.

When I split my skin,
I ensure it's only me that I harm,
Collected mind united in pain,
Then I can feel calm.

My veins run with fire,
Cut them open to let out the heat,
My veins pulse with fire,
I'll burn until I'm beat.

Itching, ******, melting flesh,
With shining silver I hold my breath,
Loose, tepid, paper skin,
Sharp steel with edge razor thin,
Rubber grip in steady hand,
Why is this wrong,
I don't understand.

Pain that is sharp and mean,
So pure and clean,
Purifying fire in aching veins,
I'm lucid because of my pains.

Burning, scorching, pulsing flames,
For my pain there is someone to blame,
Sticky, ruby, viscous blood,
Not that I must, just should,
Calm mind in broken meat,
I won't stop this,
I'll burn until I'm beat.

We get put into groups by the colour of our skin,
Judged if percieved as 'too fat' or 'too thin',
Singled out for looking different to them all,
Perhaps you are seen as slightly too tall,
Name calling and looks spotting is all the rage,
Ridiculous really in this day and age,
Both genders 'beauty' reviewed time and time,
This generation is certainly out of line,
They define peoples beauty by the medias conception,
Letting it alter their personal perception,
The pain they cause to the people they prey among,
Your faith in humanity would nearly be gone,
Who should show these people they are doing wrong,
What they have been causing all along,
Societies segregation and marginalisation,
Creates for us a serious realisation,
History is repeating again and again,
This same thing was happening way back when.
To be yourself today, is something they tell us is not okay,
We need to stop these people , tell them, soon it will be our day.

White noise buzzing about my skull,
Incessant thoughts without meaning,
No reprieve and no reason.

Other worlds all progressing steadily,
Overlapping with my own reality,
No definition between them.

You might not be able to see what I can,
Thinking I'm a fool or just insane,
No acceptance of my truth.

Always I will know that this is reality,
It is out there just behind the veil,
No way through to get home.

For all the things I can't say to you:

I used to think that boredom
was something I'd never known.
That life was full of amazement,
of so much currently unknown.
Nowadays I have realised that
thought was a child's dream.
I was perpetually bored and so
just had no reference frame.
In the years that have passed I've
naturally sought distraction.
When people learn what I've done,
I can never guess their reaction.
Some seem distressed that the
golden girl does not exist.
Others are happy to ignore it
and let my reputation persist.
Personally I don't really care what
you all think about my choices.
You are just ordinary people
with boring, ordinary little voices.

At night I lay on my bed
and I stare at the ceiling.
Sometimes I swear I can
see a pinprick light receding.

As if I'm Alice and this
is all part of my wonderland.
In the world at the bottom of
the rabbit hole lay the ******.

Like Dante's gluttonous fools
we lie in blood, mud, and pain.
Not all of my guilt can be
cleaned away by the rain.

Some darkness must be purged
from flesh with a harsher method.
We would wash it out of our
souls using our blood if we could.

Trillions of miles away
shines a star.
It's hot and dense
and glows violet.

This star has never been
photographed.
All we would see
would be a white dot.

Those that observe are
inadequate,
to realise it's true
depth of beauty.

Beside me on this bus
shines a star.
He is warm and kind
and radiant.

This star has no fame
or fortune.
He is not yet valued
appropriately.

One day the first star
will explode.
A multitude of colours, light,
and beauty.

I know that soon he will
be set alight.
And show the world
his true value.