dont tell anyone
but i broke my promise
its been a few weeks now
but i remember that sunday night
i gave in to the voices.
the voices weren't even in my head anymore
nor were they my own.
sadly, they were my parents and my sisters
telling me that i am not gay and that
maybe if i get a nice boyfriend then
i could be normal.
i cut deeper then ever before,
relapse at its finest.
and i couldn't even help but
smile as blood trickled down my arm.
i am sorry, i really am. i went almost three whole months.
and then i lost it, i needed the blood,
i needed the feeling, i needed the pain.

i'll try harder... but i dont think i can keep anymore promises.

My name is the tears falling from heaven

Or the tears falling off your face

My name is a promise

A promise that flowers are to come

Because all this bad has a purpose

The rain will wash everything away

And that’s me

I am the rain 

I will wash away all the hurt if you let me

After all the pain has been planted

I am the flowers that grow 

I am the rainbow that paints the sky

A reminder that no matter how grey

Or how damp and unpleasant

Something good will come out of it

And something good will come out of it

If you believe that bad things happen

If you believe that rain falls from the sky

You must also believe in good things

You have to believe the flowers will grow

That the sun will come up

That the sky will be streaked with multicoloured happiness

And that’s where you’ll find me

In the rain 

And all the little things afterward

Scars are fireworks.
They dance like breaths,
breath, pause, breath, pause.
Breathing is a cry for help.
You brushed my forehead with your fingertips
like wind and smiles and time
and what kisses are supposed to be.
Like time, time, time,
memory typewriters tick and tock.
They sound like footsteps,
like pallbearers and raindrops
and heartbeats and whispers and
time and time and time and time.

Scars are like spiderwebs
and patterns in half-full coffee mugs
and scales that shield, that measure.
and they're like empty stairs
and definitions the textbook wouldn't accept.

Scars are dreams.
A skirt and skin and whatever else that implies.
Scars are consensual, like sugarcoated suicides.
Scars are bodies.
Bend them, break them,
cracked contortionists.
Watch stardust pours from eyes
and arcing, narrow roads.

Higher than a cloud, I'm never coming down.
I like the was it feel up here.
All the pain is numb, the voices in my head remind me of what I've become.
All the painful symphony's dead.

I cant do this.
I don't know how to go on.
Daddy please come back.
I'm really not that strong.

What I feel for her, she knows is mine and would not share
she is my home and mine alone, as I am hers
no one shares
that.