When I reach out,
You grab my hand.
When I reach out,
You listen to my words.
When I reach out,
You're there.

Some things are better off dead
Buried in the ground
The memories stuck in my head
Spiraling around and around

My soul sits in its tomb
My hopes are the coffin it lies in
My inner child is the surrounding gloom
My dreams are the flowers lying on the stone

My trauma make up the walls that surround
My pain is the drawings underground
My soul was buried with the shackles that bind me
I had to bury it all so it would let me breathe

You have to stop looking behind to look ahead
That’s why some things are better off dead

I remember 12 year old me
13 year old me
14 year old me
15 year old me
16 year old me
17 year old me
crying alone at night
a blade in hand
carving into my body
blood staining my clothes
never thinking it could get better
but it got better
the blade is retired
the scars are healed
never to be reopened

I find myself here
Under the sycamore rain,
Again, loving you.

i draw with silver
lines, x's and spots
under a sleeve
so i never get caught

my canvas is my skin
and so with the blade i drag
across my peach paper
so they won't be mad

i'm sorry, mom
i'm sorry, dad
i'll never be the son you wanted to have
perfect grades,
happy and smart

i'm so sorry...
i'm sorry i have to tear us apart