Of the silence in this mind
Life once taken isn’t sacred
Staring at a mirror with one’s self, half-naked
After learning to accept the pain, there’s was nothing to escape it
One could make it better than fate ever did  

Can’t understand what one was doing; just escaping
Jailing one’s self with their own personal hate and
Hiding away from the mental wardens that one stayed with
Discarding one’s self to remember that one had a very hand in
The destruction to the very world one was contained within

One believed it’s right, so the argument is always “*******-
go fix your life before you act like you’re a **** God.”
It’s a long way from accepting all the blade does
But it never fails and the lines eventually fade off

Could be a saint and come to one’s defense
Or shut the **** up and watch from the ******* fence
Worn this mask so long, one tends to forget to fake it
Disillusioned to one’s self and all the things that make it

More lines to breathe across the skin appear soon
A novella of pain with no words to read through
Handling a smile like accessory to hide instability
Always showing through, but truly just a shell of ‘me’
Despite the calm you see
Through laughs and jeers
One still feels lost and uncontrolled
Everything warm when one’s heart turned cold

No chance to correct it, just craving an exit
Took the knife last night, now the demons are rested
Took the chance last night, now dried and decrepit
Relapsed again tonight, and one’s mind is repressive
Wrote about a horrid time, and now it’s all depressive

Happy stars and pussycats, unicorns and other ****.

©2015 Neal Emanuelson