February 28th marks the day
That I am, miraculously, a year clean-
Clean from the monstrosity known as
self harm

The blood has long since dried, wiped away by time
The scars are there, but old, the stories that have long since been told-
engraved in flesh, have healed
     The pages of that painful novel are now faded, but the reminder is still clear
But, I fold
My cards are on the table now- pure honesty
The blades have been tossed
out into the sea
       However
Even though I'm clean of this
I would not say, that I am free

The struggle
Temptation
Torment
What else could set me free?

But I know,
The very thing that frees me
Is the very thing that binds me
And leaves a ****** stain called  addiction
Not just on my wrists or hips
But inside my frame
My mind is not the same

I'm sorry for the things I've done;
Our love was strong but now it's gone
Forgive me for the things I've said;
Our love was strong but now it's dead

A sweet sound touches my ears
Deep in my heart, out from my skin
An echo that reverberates in my head
Out from my mouth, inking this pen
An empty paper filled with words
Nothing is said just a "Dear" and your name
An envelope to hold my letter and carry this
To you where you are, sealed with a kiss..

Sitting in the corner
lost in a maze
listening to songs
about the guy not getting the girl
they're just so much more heartfelt
than those songs
with the fairytale endings.
writing or singing about what you don't have
can make your heart feel empty
but at least we're not lying to ourselves,
writing can be like going through a maze
the start can easily be found
but then you get lost somewhere in the middle
and when you find the end
you can still feel lost
so we go back to the start
and become lost
all over again...