An abstract painting
Up to interpret.
Is it just me,
Or the mirror has a disfigurement?
Did the flower abruptly bloom,
Or was it something swollen in me,
That grew while I was sleeping?
Stunningly consuming the insides within.
Or does it pain
Because I'm empty?

Lovely and as useless
As a seven year old's drawing.
As haunting of a sight
Like a storm cloud nearby,
The drug of a cinephile.
Even my chest hurts when someone hugs
So even my ribs are in agony.
Or does it pain
Because I'm empty?

Loving the breeze
Finally at ease
With the waves singing
At the shore

The sound of the tide
Matches my smile
Helping me sleep
With its lullaby

"The sea is so vast"
"It seems so dark"
But all i do is laugh
As I drown inside

A tear escapes
With the weight in my chest
But maybe it's just the salt
That fills my breath.

Humans are social creatures
Yet the darkness never casts me away
Unlike when I'm walking with my friends
But I'm two steps back
Because 4 people together
Will crowd the hallway

Humans are social creatures
Yet a locked room won't throw me away
Unlike my friend pulling our other friend
Because she has to tell her a secret
That just isn't for me

Humans are social creatures
Yet the water of the shower doesn't drown me away
Unlike the way I know everyone in my school
But don't fit in any of the groups

Humans are social creatures
Yet my music doesn't let me faint
Unlike when I'm asked about my best friend
But realise I don't have one to name

It all bled and bled and bled.

The hurt. The abandonment. The truth. The metaphors. 

It all bled.

It all bled so vicious and dark,
That I started wondering if my bitterness
started staining the crimson of my blood.
And painted it a stark black,
As I picked apart all that I lack.

And I bled and bled and bled like
The never-ending torture 
Of birth and death.

pay more respect to the women working at morgues.

they tend to the dead
it takes sympathy
it takes care
it takes courage
it takes control

not the control of fear of stray souls
not the control of fear of phantoms
but the control of wanton

and that is why men aren't hired by morgues.