i'll tattoo these emotions across my wrists
because they're choking me all the way through my skin
wrapping around my veins
tainting my soul like a sick liquor

and no one will understand this suffocation
this slow sort of cancer spreading along my neurons

the numb stage is over
my smile now appears
but it's warped and it's deranged
just like the scars i create

i've been crying for hours
and there's no end in sight

and my nerves are exposed
innocent words
cut to the bone

i climb higher and higher




i topple over the edge

You Reap What You Sow

A sentiment that never quite stuck.

I did what I would-
Consequences were a punishment
for villains more obvious
than the sweet girl I played.

But the real world is not so biased,
peeling away the masks I wore

You Lay in the Bed You Make*

But my pillow is filled with thorns,
and my blanket is thread-bare.
The mattress is layered with spiders' webs
and the chill never abates.

I long for the One to warm my soul...
But it's been years since another has lain so close

For I sow seeds of deceit
and when they bloom
the fruit is bittersweet
and the stems cannot bear weight.

I want to cut.

I need to cut.

I miss cutting. 

I miss the scars. 

I miss the voices. 

I miss the deep spiraling depression.

I miss feeling out of control.

I miss feeling. 

Why do I miss being sick?

I thought I would be happy when I wasn’t depressed anymore, but now all I feel is emptiness. 

Where feelings of fear, anxiety, and sadness used to live, empty space echoes revealing what is lost.

I miss it all.
And I know I shouldn’t.

A numbness of
emotions
I hate to be feeling.
The reality of my
sanity
is something worth concealing.
But the thing about life is it ends.
The thing about life is it…

-b.b.