I am the cuts on your wrist
I am the alcohol on your breath
I am the pills under your tongue
I am the blood on your carpet
I am the circles under your eyes
I am the cries stuck in your throat
I am the voices in your head
I am the stars in front of your eyes
I am the darkness in your thoughts
I am the scars on your bottom lip
I am the suicide note in your drawer
I am the gun under your pillow

I am the misery; I am the grief
I am the pain; I am the screams

If after everything we’ve lost,
this is all I have gained,
the least I can do is
take pleasure in your pain