I don't know what I did The past is so blurry I can't remember What I did to deserve this My mind won't leave me alone But you will My hands move on their own Texting you again I know you'll never love me too I understand you're using me But red flags through rose-tinted glasses Just look like flags Armed with my heart on my sleeve And rose-tinted glasses Ready for you to use me Because pain is the only thing that's real
o talkative listener what do you do always rephrasing sins on your skin you are a devil in disguise and I love you for that you are ragged edged with a hint of silver wanting to make gold with stones you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and walk like it's your last time to shine o talkative listener what do you do always marking your words with a metal edge you are a devil in disguise and I love you for that
I want to feel the poetry in my blood I want to feel the words form a structure around my bones Kindly reminding me of you in a way only words can do I want to feel the explanation mark in my heart grow bigger as our lips converge I want the commas to never end, and the periods to never emerge from the depths of my mind We make poetry babe, you and I will forever remain alive in the words I have written Because I love you as much as the words in my poems And I will never let go of that feeling
Help, I've done it again I've been here many times before Hurt myself again today Seeing the blood made me feel okay I've been here many times before This pitch black hole they call depression It's a beast feasting on my innards There's nothing left but pain I can't breathe. The weight of being alive is pulling me under I can't function without feeling the wall between me and my emotions I just want to close my eyes to never wake up again I'm done giving to a world so ****** up as this one I'm done living in a society that tells me how to behave I am so ******* tired I want to die No. I need to die I don't have any purpose I'm drowning, can't you see? It's inhumane to keep me here In a life that isn't made for me
These lungs have known. Breathlessness. A floating feeling that gives pause to struggles. Experienced wind leave so quickly. That space seemed to reject life itself. Even when retracting the icy stalagtites back into a living cadaver. Did it seem less horrific when under a microscope. Focusing on a single point makes the big picture invisible. Hiding behind layers of memories. Doesn't ensure the years they promised. Just more things to add to a collage that. No one. Will see. How does one plead with inevitability. Fate is supposed to come knocking. But when home is no longer standing. It looks more like a wave goodbye. And so these feet come to the next precipice in which was foretold so many pages ago. How strangely comforting that knowing a pain lessens it's return. So now it matters very little because it's not an if anymore. The sign says stop. But the road is long. With room for only one. At least no one will see the tears.