You have such pretty eyes
They remind me all of the time
of how much I hate mine

It hurts so ******* much
To love
When you've crafted
A perfectly secluded life
Based solely on self-hate

I asked my psychiatrist
If my condition is terminal,
And he said
"That's up to you"
But I puke each morning
At a quarter to two
And it never feels like
A decision at all

I asked my psychiatrist
If I should be bedridden
And he said
"If you want to"
But I've never wanted
To live in silence
At twenty-two
And still I can't even move
So how can you say
I approve?

It's really hard
To align the lightness
And the darkness
In my mind
To make that pretty indigo color
That sanity comes in

I think in a muted grey
A dark yellow haze
Slashes of army green
That seep crimson red
All set over black
And it's always running together
Making these ugly swirls
That sting in the shower

I'm broken
I know that
Without a doubt

My psychiatrist said
"There's no such thing
As a broken human"

But I am consumed by this poison
To which there is no anti-venom,
And I feel like a walking infection,
Pumping veins full of OxyContin
Just to take the edge off

I won't survive this
& everyone knows it