I wounded myself
With what cuts you
To see if you would notice, that
You're not alone.
To see the world through your view, that
I might better understand you,
I lost myself
To see how to make it
Back onto the path.
What I saw;
No person was too far gone
That made love their epitaph.

is it right to follow the law
if it is not right?
is it just to dole out justice
with a lady liberty lacking sight?
when so many are the disenfranchised
and the majority of wallets, tight
is a moratorium ending
harming or mending?
where is the break in our dark
someone illuminate rational light
for the contrast is stark
between those who laze
and those who fight

eating is torture
eating is a total nightmare
I’m torn between needing the food because I’m starving and being horrified of the food coming inside of my body and making me feel full
The feeling of the food inside of my stomach is absolutely terrifying
I’m the puppet of my anorexia
I’m terrified of getting away with not eating, but there’s a bigger part that praises me when I get away with not eating
I’m never gonna make it easy for them, because of the terror
Eating makes me so ******* scared
I don’t want to gain weight, I’m already fat
The people around me are lying, telling me I am too skinny
Or is it my head that’s lying to me?
Why do I see a fat person in the mirror when I look at myself
I eat less than a 100 calories each day
I need a minimum of 2000
How is it that I’m still so fat?
Eating is horrifying to me
My parents think I do it to control them, but that’s such a lie
I do it because I’m genuinely scared to eat
I fear eating and I fear food
I fear getting my stomach full and I fear getting fat
I don’t know how to overcome this fear
I’m working so hard and no one sees it

My record spins in sync with my mind, trying to forget the life I left behind
But the monsters they won't let me go, the demons tell me you hate me so
I'll go make myself feel something more, I'll carve out on my skin the truth - "you *****"
For that's what I am as you've told me so many times, just let me leave and escape my mind

Some pour any ointment they can find upon their insides so that they might stop the aching,
in some attempt to make all they can focus on a blur.
So that all they bottled up can flow away and stop the drain upon their life.

There are those who sit looking at canvases that they might seek to mark so many times
it would create something of beauty if it would only hide the ugliness beneath.
As if to carve some crack through which a light might shine and blot out the dark.
A light that might be found as friend or mother or lover that on the other side is a life preserver,
a sanctuary,
a single point afloat in all the world held onto so tightly
the white knuckle ride that would seem to only end when they let go.

But to let go,
                         is to fall.

to fall into that sea that numbs that crowds that never lets up.

To fall and stop so suddenly the world gives out below.

Were it not for those who hold us tight in some attempt to pull us up
there would be but one thing to stop the fall.
The people we talk with and dance with and live with can be the only things holding us up,
but those lines feel so thin that they might break at the slightest tug
so we hope they might somehow form a net,
something to catch us and carry us away to shore,

where finally
we can lay and rest.

She screamed,
And the blood of her victims
Reigned down upon her.
Sealing her thin body in a scarlet coat,
Her naked eyes shown through.
No emotion for anything,
No sign of the murderous frenzy taking place.
The murdered thought she was one of them,
But they couldn't see what she did.
Images flashed from one to another,
Totally normal to
Morbid nightmares
In her everyday life.
She was just scared,
We justified.
She thought they were harming others,
We excused this little mess,
And let her free,
But that is not what should be.
Her victims walk around my room
And stop In my doorway,
Embodiments of normal people.
But the fear of the lady coming to **** them
Is terrifying.
So I wake up,
And live my life
Sleep deprived and afraid.

she stares at the bottle of pills
sitting calmly on the table
as she picks up a paintbrush
and begin her painting

her choice of colour was red
always shocking red
her canvas was smooth
smooth as a baby's skin they say

but no one will ever know
the days she spent locked up
in her room painting
her life away

that her canvas was her skin
the paintbrush was the blade
the choice of colour was her blood
and she couldn't stop