so empty
so dark
so scary
death is far
which is good
but now i am left with nothing
and no one
just empty

so empty.

when the doctor tested my reflexes
he broke both of my knees
so now i walk at a crawl
and i struggle to start again

The thing I use to fight with
has turned against me,
and is winning the battle

The enemy—
my own mind
—is about to attack,
and I’m unable to act

And now all I’m left with
is scars that never seem
to be healing,
I never seem
to be healing

A handful of pills
in my palm,
their color is a sign
of truce, purity,
and surrender

And I surrender

So here is my shield,
my sword,
my soul,
I no longer want
to fight this battle

when the doctor tested my reflexes
he broke both of my knees
so now i walk at a crawl
and i struggle to start again

I pretend to laugh
Even when I want to cry
I pretend to live
Even when I want to die

I pretend that I'm in control
Even when I'm not
I pretend to move forward
Even when I know I've stopped

I pretend to believe there's hope
Even when I'm not so sure
I pretend that the medicine is helping
Even when I know there is no cure

I pretend that I'm getting better
Even when I know its not true
I pretend that isn't real
Even when I know that I do

All my years, I’ve been preparing to die,
and now they’re forcing me to stay alive
Claiming they can heal my wounded soul
by shocking my brain causing more trauma

How do you go back
from being buried?
How do you find peace
when you know what’s awaiting you?
How do you love
when your heart has stopped?
How do you remember
when you’ve lost your mind?
How do you cry
when you don’t have tears?
How do you overcome your past
if it’s still your present?
What do people do with their lives
if their whole being didn’t yearn for its doom?

How do I start?
Where do I begin?

This is the first day of my life
where I’m not suicidal, and
I don’t know what there is to do
when death was my only salvation

I don’t know this new version of me;
the one who doesn’t find it impossible
to stay for another day,
another endless night

I’m scared of shifting back;
I’m scared of being buried
by my own deadly psych,
I’m scared of dying again

Things are more lighter now
The elephant in the room is no
longer perched upon my chest,
and my wrists are no longer
bleeding, only the scars remain

What if I get hungry again, and can’t
find anything to feed on but my own blood?
What if I woke up in a casket again?

I can’t help but wonder
for how long is this going to last?
How long am I going to last?
I hope this lasts,
I hope I last

I can hope like others do!
I’m hoping again
which is a sign of life!

Am I deluding myself?
Am I better or worse?

I need someone to squeeze my hand
just so I know that this is real
It’s dangerous to get stuck in
a state where nothing feels real
No matter how deep
you went to draw blood,
you still don’t feel like you’re here

In my head I’ve already
killed myself, long ago,
and now my corpse is
somehow trying to breathe, again?

This goes against logic
This goes against my own head,
my head is going against
its own suicidal thoughts

Am I going to look back at this,
and not believe that one day
One day I felt alive enough to breathe,
and not wish I wasn't

When I close my eyes at night
I want to think of you
I want us to be happy
I want to dream of you
I want you in my arms
I want your kiss
I want to know you're there
I want to feel you near me
I want you to feel this way too