I was so broken
the cracks in my heart went so deep
deeper than the ocean
all I did was sleep

I wanted to sleep my pain away
sometimes I still want to
but I don't
because im trying to better my life,
keep my **** organised,
stay away from my knifes

but last weekend I was alone
not lonely, but alone
I was connecting to my body again
nobody was there to judge the things that I did
I was laying in the grass
looking at the trees
meditating, streching, praying, painting
all the things I like to do but I'm scared to
scared that people judge me doing them

but in that moment
after the weekend reconnecting with myself
I finally felt happy
my cracks were filling up with joy
I couldn't sleep because I couldn't stop smiling

that moment
that short moment
I will never forget
I finally felt hope again

His fingertips, stroking my face.
My hands, trew his hair.
His arms, around my waist.
My body, pushed against his.
His breath, loudly in my neck.
My eyes, looking into his soul.
His lips, tasting my love.

Thats what I imagine how real love will feel like anyways.

I never understood what the point of life was,
we are all just here, hurting, losing, hoping
And for what?
Are the good times really worth the bad times?
Why can't I just **** myself?
In the end it won't matter
Why am I stressing over one bad grade?
I won't even remember it in a year
So I had to set my own point,
but I am still debating
Is my point going to be
           to be happy or to die?

I looked at a boy
admiring his beauty
his lips, his eyes, his nose, so beautiful
he looked down
and then in my eyes
I thought he was sharing love
but he asked if I still cut
he saw the scars on my ankles
it wasn't love but at least he cared, I thought
but then he said he didn't want to have anything to do with me
I was too ****** up, too broken
then he walked out the door
his beauty turned into hate