i can't make myself happy
when i can't get off this chair
too anxious to stop crying
silently hating my stare

my face is so ****** ugly
i'm shaking, i'm trying to stop
nothing could ever console me
this dark and familiar spot

depression that grabs me is all too familiar
i'm crippled and tired, too tired to care

a few pills will save me from cutting my body
again and again i'll make myself sleep
it's always been there, this darkness and crying
but now i know that it's better to sleep

because it escalates to rage and seeing spots
and punching holes in the wall and filling holes from inside with
alcohol and cigarettes and petting my pride

my egotistical mind that thinks that if i look good
at least i have that, and that's one thing i have

so i spend hours in front of the mirror painting my face and doing my hair and ******* hating my face, my ****** stare

if i look long enough i see myself change and no longer am i fragile, i'm filling that space
where i can't hurt i  just harm and push everyone away
it's harder to ache and to look at my face
than it is to get cold and harder to touch and harder to shove

and i can't replace my face with anyone else's
so i better make it perfect
keep on going and try to calm down
keep myself busy and play music loud

so typical.
it's a cycle.
i'm trying.
still breathing.