He stared at the cuts on his wrist
Reprimanding himself for his cowardice
To not  finish the job
Melissa had seen those cuts
Dug deep  into his wrist; angry red
Knowing  full well the reason for them
But choosing to ignore them

He flinched letting out a sharp gasp
As slaps  and  punches  hit him
Opening old wounds  and  bruises
His body a palette of suffering  and  pain
Bleeding tears down his skeletal frame
Melissa  watched these attacks
Her boyfriend  inflicted upon him
But chose to ignore them

His eyes were dry from shedding tears
His heart was torn from the constant crushing
His body wracked and tired from the frequent beatings
And his brain weary and ready to shut down forever
That morning Melissa  couldn't  ignore the body
Hung in her front garden
Holding a bouquet of wilting roses;
With a heart saying *I love you

i used to have words tearing off my skin
stabbing my soul before bringing me back
just to bleed me all over again
and i don't think i've ever prayed harder
to keep my demons away from me.

one day it flew back to hell and
left me with a lump in my throat;
bruises along my fingers
aching when i feel my veins
and found that i no longer recognize
the rhythmic echo that once was mine.

I find it hard to keep my head on the level
          Keep thinking,
waiting for the second I lose my mental
     Missing some thoughts about you
Memory got shot, a drive-by from what the last guy put me through
     And some of the blood left a few stains
Bruises and scars but it ain't the same thang
            The marks everyone else can see ain't nothing compared to the rips and tears deep inside of me
       The stains on my soul turning what used to make me whole
          into something ***** and cold
      No amounts of bleach or scrubbing can make me forget
Nothing can help me escape from
             the laundry list of regrets
It beats me up inside,
       causes more, new and fresh bruises
               with every nightmare
And no matter how many dreams I have between,
         I can't seem to get there
To that place of no longer looking back,
            of thinking about the past
Cause some trauma tends to define
      what your **happiness lacks

this year,
I'll wear purple on christmas
maybe add a little blue here & there
a splash of red near my sleeves
ah, yes, that'll do well

Marks on my body that ache and burn
Shadows that cover my frame
Cause me pain even when I'm laying still
Fade within a few days
Some stay as if they've found a new home
Upon my marred exterior
A crushing within my chest
A harsh graze against my delicate skin
Leaves a bruise
Another part of the collection

put your phone down
quit it with the selfies
i know those smiles aren't real
put that cancer bringing stick away
talk to me instead
i'll listen to what you have to say
let me be like the pillow
you whisper your dreams to
when no one else is around
let me be your friend
i only ever see you at parties
but i notice
i noticed the scars
and i noticed the bruises
and with every one out the door
when it's all finally over
i notice how you always stay behind
to help clean up
it's always my friends' parties
they aren't your friends but you help
with you trying to be nice
don't you just want
someone to be nice to you as well?
i can be that person
i will be that person
because i used to be the person you were
battered and everything much worse
but what's really got me irked
and conflicted
is how you can be nice to others
but not to yourself
is why you add trouble to your problems
rather than trying to rid of them
put the phone down
happiness isn't something you can fake
put that stick away
yes, the smoke you puff out
it's beautiful
only because it came from your lips
but remember
stress isn't something you can be free from
those sticks won't help
they could but only for a little while
never permanently
that phone and that stick is not your friend
but i can be
just look at me
talk to me