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I am chaos and pain and I hurt those around me
I am questions asked in the dead of night when everyone else is heavy with sleep but my brain is still bright and wandering
I am the scars of my past and the danger of my future
I am silence
I am the broken heart and the hurt mind
I am loneliness
I am the clouds the cover the bright shine of the moon
And when my head fills with white noise and static and all I can think about is death
**I am disaster
She died on a Sunday morning at 6
Her parents at church on their knees praying to a god that doesn't exist
And as they took up the offerings she took up a gun
And as the preacher  said god will never give you more then you can take
She held a gun to her head and thought of the hate
The voices
The screaming
The ones she thought she could trust
And as the preacher said let us pray
She said one last good bye and glanced at her note
And as her parents left the church for their car
She pulled the trigger and thought about how her parents will come home to find their daughter dead.
Have you ever just sat and thought?
I tend to over think a lot. Or at least that's what my mom tells me.
I don't call it over thinking
I call it a realization. A realization of the mechanics of society, the world, everything.
A realization that while everyone goes on with their dull, ordinary, mundane lives there are people out there dying, missing, or lost.
People who are hurt, beaten by the ones that are supposed to love them,
People who have never seen a book in their life and likely never will.
People who can't read or write.
People who can't even remember when their last meal was, or when their next will be.
Those who are sold like property.  Those who are owned. And yet here we are, doing nothing.
Talking about how long the drive to see your mom was.
Or how your friend was rude
Like I said realization. But it's the truth. But the truth hurts doesn't it?
So everyone would rather give it cute name, put it in a pretty box and set it on a neat little self away from daily life.
You donate money to the charities of course
For the cause
Five? Ten? Twenty?  Put in a neat little white envelope and sent in
For the cause.
Then what?
You go back to your life, of course
And try hide from the fact that people are dying or starving or hurt.
While you talk about, what kinda of shoes someone wore.
But none of that really matters.
Some people like to hide from reality in different things.
For some it's books, movies, drugs, music, others bury themselves into work or family until they can't hear the cries of the starving boy, and the beaten little girl.
Others hear them But the ignore them
  Like selective hearing or a light switch
Drown them out with complaints and the humdrum of everyday life while another little boy is shot and another little girl is sold.
Talk about school, homework, and boys
To try and drown out the fact that we aren't doing anything to help.
That we are letting this happen, and we are a bystander to this.
To drown out the fact that while the girl dies and the boy is sold that we are sitting around.
Doing nothing.
Or maybe it's just me?
Maybe no one else thinks about the bleeding little boy and the crying girl.
And if you don't then I hope that this is your realization.
A smile for each cut
Its getting bad but i won't let you see
You know i'm slowly dying
But i smile
Out of sight
Out of mind
I'll be perfectly fine
When i'm six feet under ground
My darlings pull your sleeves down
No one has to know
With all the pain you’ve gone through
Your scars don’t have to show
With cuts and scratches and tears
You death is nearly here
Blood stained towels cover the floor
Everyone’s hoping you’ll walk out the door
Throw up honey you’re to fat
Blame your cuts on the cat
Sliding a blade across your skin
Getting sick to be thin
Blood is nice, razors are fun
A couple more cuts and I’ll finally be done
Through all the tears, and the pain my white towel, is stained blood red
But now the bullet is picked, I put the gun to my head pull the trigger, I’m finally dead
They pull their
Sleeves down over their wrist so that their scars won’t be seen and they wear sweatshirts three sizes too big so no one will see how “fat” they are while their ribs cast hollow,  shadows on the near transparency of their skin and they hid behind lots of dark eyeliner and masses of cover up for their biggest fear is to be seen as different or weird or troubled or crazy because then people will notice their problems and that’s not what they want
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