I didn't cry for two years,
Because I refused to let myself feel.
I promised that I would save my tears
for something that deemed my emotions real.

It was a method that helped me get by -
Not questioning why certain things felt so heavy to carry,
I never let myself feel the urge to cry,
Because the thought that I may never stop was an idea too scary.

And then I saw you
and I didn't know if anything would feel worse,
than the way you said my name
Or how your eyebrows raise when you curse.

You messed up my two year streak.
You interfered with my way of living.
And now I always let the water leak
from my eyes until my emotions are swimming.

So I'm sick of writing poems about you,
and I hate that you made me cry.
These are my last lines for you,
this is me saying goodbye.

I would give everything to not sleep alone tonight,
I have tried so many drugs to make this burden feel light.
But nothing is helping to rid these beasts out of sight!
Show me something to end this nightmare,
give me something to win this fight.

There are many things I can tell you, and many things I cannot.
The amount of battles I've won is much less than the ones I've fought.
But I've got lots of knowledge buried inside my skull
Some of which is morbid, but most of which is dull.

I can tell you how to sweep the kitchen floor without leaving behind crumbs,
I can tell you how to twist a doorknob without using your thumbs.
I can tell you how to get to Union Station from the West-bound train,
I can teach you different pranks that will drive your brother insane.

I can tell you how to sear small burns into your delicate skin,
I can name you all the different pills that will make you thin.
I can tell you how to hurt yourself in places no one will find,
I can tell you how to arrange your coke into a perfect line.

But there are things I cannot say, for I have not discovered:
How to find hope, how to be kind, or how to be a lover.
I'm still learning how to drive my car in standard,
And I'm still trying to figure out how to behave in a polite manner.

Every day I learn, and every day I fail
But my burning desire for growth will always prevail.

Because although I am destructive and ill and cold
And though I am young and foolish and bold
I am still looking forward to what the future will hold
Because there are many things I can tell you, and many things to be told.

I was 16 years old and wanted to slice myself in half,
wondering if I would ever get the last laugh.
Wondering why the good things never last,
hoping I could one day go down the right path.

I was 16 years old and couldn't think straight,
stuck on the idea that I'd always be too late.
Hoping that the boy would ask me on a date,
Seeing only predictability and self hate.

I was 16 years old with a hair clip and a lighter,
wondering why no one else saw me as a fighter.
Trying different things to make the weight lighter;
mixed in with the invisible's and the over-biters.

I was 16 years old and the timing was always wrong,
feeling like the road of self-destruction was too long.
Doctors telling me what I had known all along,
just waiting for the day that I could sing a new song.