She took the boy in the bubble; who wanted to be a good boyfriend. The girl took the only source of happiness she had. He helped her from her molestation to the old scars on her wrists. The girl gets questions about why he would leave her if she was what he wanted; she replies with 'he wants me, he just could not go without ***' he begged her for their relationship to be the same. She returns to being cold and heartless to everybody. She looks at herself in the mirror and notices her stretch marks, her flabby stomach, her fat thighs, and more. He told her she was beautiful, gorgeous, and other sweet nothings. She misses him and he only thought of her after he broke her. That's the thing with high school relationships; they never work out unless you are a ***** that sleeps with any guy she sees. From the time the girl in the bubble met the boy; there was a spark. The spark was large, from the time they met, they always could talk about anything and everything. It was a beautiful love story until it became tragic and full of lies. She knew there would at least something that would happen even if it was heartbreak. But that's how the story goes on.

We sat on the railing, high above the building, like we were on the edge of the world.
The moon breathed our names, and they soaked into the purple sea.
Raindrops land on my hands, softly pattering against my palms.
The candles, fizzle out, bathing the world in darkness.
But the raindrops on my hands turn into stars, and suddenly, I realized that you were the brightest thing I could ever see.
I wanted to show you, but you were gone. I looked down, to see you fall.
I close my eyes when you hit the ground, but that doesn’t stop me from crying.
I get to the ground as soon as I can.
The neon violet light shines against your skin, making you shine more than I had ever seen you.
You’re right there, blinding me, yet no one sees you.
They’re so sharp, the shards of your broken heart.
They surround you, glinting and sparkling as the starlight rain falls on your face.
I pick up a piece and draw one last picture for you.

I want to escape

My skin is a prison that I want to escape;
I know there is nothing underneath the flesh and bones I call mine,
but I can FEEL my essence angrily churning,
begging for release of this existence.

I want to escape

The flesh I occupy feels like a punishment
bestowed upon me for not being worthy of being truly free
by God who knows the tortment I wish
on those who are innocent.

I want to escape

The prison of meat I call mine was designed by a being
who isn't limited by one himself.
My flesh burns,
as my soul rejects it.

I want to escape

Can Father hear how
his creation screams inside the neat little prison
he made for me?

I want to escape

Can Father forgive me
for cutting into the walls of this prison
he made for me?

I want to escape

Can Father let me out
of this nightmare of a prison that
he made for me?

I want to escape
I want to escape
Please,
I want to escape.

I knew a boy who liked to draw,
He drew pictures that no one saw.
He was most artistic late at night,
In the bathroom out of sight.
He kept a secret that no one knew,
He didn’t tell, but his gallery grew.
His drawings were different, he used no paper or pen,
But he constantly needed a bandage again and again.
We stood by the river under the stars,
He rolled up his sleeves reveling his scars.
He felt embarrassed and looked down at his shoes,
I rolled up my sleeves and whispered,
“I draw too.”

The desperate search,
For some familiar earth.

The rise of the uncontrollable,
Until we resort to the toll of will,

The anxious blade,
Is the friend we made.

In our trying times,
That made tunnels of our eyes.

When our dice fall upon the zero,
There's no telling where we'll go,

Except to our secret place,
Where we've hidden our friendly blade.

Pain to distract from pain,
Just another color in our endless rain.

Ashamed of what we've done,
The scars we bear,
Are proof that we've won.
Because we were there.

Because we're still here.

For the memories of those who aren't,
Now would warrant a graceful tear.

For our brothers and sisters in arms,
and the arms who've bled,
we're the ones who know...

Just how strong we are.

You've made it this far,
There's no telling where you'll go

~Robert van Lingen

I want to take apart my skin
when the sun is too bright
and the world is too full
of people who will never know me.

I want to open the rivers
inside my wrists and empty them;
to pour myself away
the way I pour whisky
into my empty stomach,
and my hypothermic limbs
into stranger's beds.

I cut Guy's off like it's my job
I rather be hurt by u then be hurt with u
I rather put the pieces together then let u destroy me
I rather love me

I used to hurt myself every single day
Used to maybe to go a week at best without fresh wounds
Used to need it to get through the day

And it's difficult to explain
And it's different for everyone that chooses to feel pain
Cause that is exactly what it is choosing to feel pain
It's wanting to not be numb
Wanting to feel alive
Wanting to feel anything other than that emptiness
Because the emptiness is the heaviest thing you will never have
It's like filing your heart up with rocks
Feeling it sink in your chest

And that heaviness at first is just a symptom
It ***** but you push forward
But it gets heavier and you slowly loose control
Instead of growing stronger the weight just wears you out
And son you feel the weight piling on more than ever
Every time they...
...call you a name...
...push you down...
...use you...
...ignore you...
...abuse you...

And it builds and builds and you can't keep going
And you start to wonder what if I just didn't exist
And the thought scares you to death but you feel so helpless
And you can't keep carrying the weight in you heart without help
So every single day the though come up
What if you just died

And every day it seems more and more like a better idea
Because you're tired of crying yourself to sleep
And you're tired of always feeling alone and unwanted
And everything is so numb that it hurts
So you give it a shot and it's messy
It always is the first time
And there's blood
But for once you don't feel like you have a heart full of rocks
Instead your heart is racing from the rush
And you feel something
Its painful and awful but it's something
And its nice but not necessary

So a few weeks later on you're at your breaking point again
And you put steel to skin
And the blood arises from the **** like a mountain spring
And your body feels the rush all over again
Before you know it every day is a pain and all you want is to feel
So you're like me
Slit your wrists before bed
Cuts in the mouth in the morning
And the torment all day between the two

And you're not destroying your body because you're suicidal
You aren't doing it oping you'll die
You're not ripping flesh from flesh because you want attention
The horror inst worth a few glances

You're spilling blood like a warlord committing crimes only against your own body because you're trying desperately to stay alive and only in this bleeding, in this pain can you find any peace from the pain of existence and the voice inside you that tell a you just to give up and die already

It's counter-intuitive but it's what keeps you alive for another day