I fall sometimes-
and some days I can't get back up.
Clinging to the pangs in my stomach
left there because anxiety likes to remind me
she's still breathing-
Clinging to the knife in my side drawer
left there because I don't trust myself
and depression is right in my ear
telling me to do it again and again and again.
There's two devil's on my shoulder-
and no angel to be found.
I fall sometimes-
and end up making a home out of the ground.
Leave me here in pieces
I've always picked them up alone anyway.