how easy it was to walk away
turn quiet and never stay
so you think you're not to blame
and left my heart in vain
when your voice was my song
your smile that kept me moving on
but here I lay
thinking the ghost of you to stay
embracing my blue soul with a cold kiss
and tell me that we'll be okay

i have become
a worm
so many times
falling victim to my own
mistakes and poor choices
and allowing myself to shrivel up
into something pathetic
and ugly

i have been told
and convinced i’m worthless
that i can’t do it
on my own
and i keep
becoming
that little worm
over and over again

the prospect
of building a future
scares me much more
than the idea
of death

i haven’t given up yet
but the dark thoughts
are consistently swimming
around in my weary head

somehow,
you see someone
worth saving
you see past the ugly
and help me to realize
that there could be
something better for me
that maybe i can do it on my own
that maybe i have a chance
to actually live for once
instead of just existing
i’m going to keep clicking
my heels
until i find
myself a home

I think I will forever resent the day you died.

I think I will forever hate the day you left - Me.

You left everything for us, to pick up, to clean up - To tidy.

And you left it all as it was but slightly worse.

But only you didn't die
You lost your mind.

Your mind faded the way we sleep

Slowly and then all at once.

Until you vanished, and became a shell of you.

You had died severely. Each time you broke you died.

You left us. You are no longer here, with us.

You look but do not see

You hear but do not listen

You are.

But you are not.

I wish I could delete everything I’ve ever posted on the internet,
make myself disappear,
untraceable, unavailable, please try again another time,
I want to hit return and erase every text I’ve ever sent,
being invisible is safe, anonymity is freedom,
I want to fall out of cyberspace and into a black hole of pre recorded memories,
of times before we were attached to cords for validation,
so many perceptions of who I am create Frankenstein versions of me insinuated in the minds of others,
am I who I think I am or who you think I am?
manipulating wires became plugged into our brains and we forgot what we looked like in the mirror,
I want to know what I really think of me,
not what I was groomed into seeing
from years of comparisons that will never be enough,
I want to log myself out from the internet and act like I just logged in,
to what life would’ve been without it

Even my coffee needs a pep talk,

For I feel no relief when the
caffeine kicks in.

I know the tools
Time heals;
Not all wounds
Are bad memories to ****.

Yet I go to war defeated
Escape in the world of dreams,
Only to wake up even more
drained.

Time heals, they say, but how
much time — when it seems
infinite.

Switched off the router today,
Waited a few seconds
Maybe my energy will start
blinking
again.

Not yet,
Dear friend.

Be patient,
The sun has not set.

My coffee just kicked in, and I can
still write a poem.

there is a lot
i know
i could give
if i allowed myself
to want
to live

but i tend to be
much more of
a teaser
than a pleaser
i want to be loved
but am too
afraid to let
anyone in

my body is a nightmare
it scares me
more than anything
i have hated it
for as long as
i can remember
dating back
to when i was just a child
with self harm
being contemplated

my biggest fear
is being seen
i am so ashamed
of me
that i
always compare myself
to everyone else
i could possibly be
raised on self loathing
and insecurity
never learning
how to find
my own
body positivity

i often feel ugly
unwanted
and unworthy
of anything
but the pathetic
little existence
that i’ve enclosed myself
within
i wish i could cut off
all my skin
take out my innards
and build myself again

but
a needle and thread
couldn’t reconstruct my head
yards of yarn
couldn’t crochet
my crooked mind
and smile
away

it would take more
than shiny buttons
to spruce me up
because i’m
******
and
i forgot what i was saying
before my honesty got lost
along the thought
process
of the things
i try to confess
before the drinks wear off
and i’m back to square one
trying to find my way
to the top
of the bottom
which is
where i’ll
likely
stay

Alright, what do we got here.

The victim, had lacerations all over his neck, hands and chest.

He had a long history of depression, family trauma, child abuse.

He isolated himself for a while, despite thinking he was having more friends. It was all just a front for the real thing.

He wasn't happy anymore, he was really trying, but he just couldn't say what was going on.

Who killed him?

Me, I killed him.