Cut me open and i bleed ink
break my bones and they turn to dust
steal my breath with a quick gun shot to the heart
and my rip cage with break open with flowers
watered from the wound
leave me alone
and bleeding
because its not any different
from the nights i spent in my room
on the floor
clutching a bottle of whiskey
bleeding on the inside
its no different
just this time
you actually cared to notice
because you didn't have to look hard
my white shirt was now red
and my hands shook a little harder than usual.
This isn't any more pain
then feeling alone
and empty
and having to force a smile
at the dinner table
forcing yourself to make conversation
forcing yourself to get up from your bed  
when you hear your mom call dinner.
This pain you just can't describe as well
because although you've felt like every breath hurt
and your chest had a huge gaping hole
and your head screamed like it was splitting open
and your body shook.
But you don't have to describe this pain
because although it feels the same
you trying to breath does hurt because your heart doesn't want to work with a hole there
one you can see
and your head did split open form falling to the ground
and your body is shaking because your cold
so cold.
The pain on the inside would still be worse.
Even without having a bullet finding a place to stay in your chest.
And no one noticed.
But i can't blame them,
because my shirt is still white
and my hands are only shaking from not eating all day
and too many cigarettes
and i have a headache from lack of sleep
or from the lights on this city street i'm walking.
But hey, at least i'm still alive.. right?
For now at least.
Maybe i will walk this dark alley.