my fingers are like matches

because everything I touch turns to ash.

I swear my intentions are golden

and my goals are pure.

but I can’t seem to keep from burning bridges

and speaking singed words.

Her mind constantly plotted against her
Made her believe things that eventually resulted in self destruct
She never understood why… and how could she?
How is one supposed to understand the feeling to have your own mind eating you from the inside, trying to ruin and destroy everything you’re trying to build. To have yourself as the archenemy. To have yourself not giving you a chance to live. To have your own mind telling you that you are not worthy nor deserve to walk on this earth
She can’t trust herself, she therefore can’t trust anyone

“Aren’t we supposed to be in the same team?” She asked her mind
You see, depression doesn’t know what he is
Doesn’t know that he is a sickness, a disease
To him, he is just looking for a place to stay, for a home
And the only way for him to find a home is to invade and create civil wars
Depression has no problem going into a war zone with no weapons
Because he is a strong enough of a weapon himself
He has been into many wars, and won countless battles
You see, the odds are usually in his favor
So depression has no problem going into a war

Kissing you was like swallowing
the salty, salty sea:

I have corals for ribs,
and seaweed limbs;
my bones are ship-wreck saves
and wishful pennies.

My heart is a sea-shell:
if you put your ear to it,
you’ll hear me screaming, shouting,
pining
for you.