What are we doing here
Piled high with things we are supposed to do.
Places to go dishes to wash floors to vacuum lawns to mow boys to kiss girls to *****
Why the hell does any of this matter
We are driving in the dark with no headlights.
Why do we do any of the things we do
We follow society blindly
People ask me why I'm insane.
I'm asking them the same thing
I don't get it
We get put in mental hospitals because our insanity isn't "normal" enough
We aren't following "normal" enough
So we get high
We become suicidal
Try to **** ourselves
We cut our skin
Cause we are so confused
We are so broken according to everyone
We are so ******* up
So numb
As to why we have to live this ******* way
Who the hell decided that this is life
I hate myself
I hate my head for thinking this deep.
Try turning on your headlights
Maybe you will understand
We aren't even insane at all.
You are.

My mind is blank of things to type on this screen
I have no inspiration
No rhythm
I haven't lost it all
Not quite yet
Its just drifting
And its time to go searching

she twisted her hip as she fell, so too slipped into fit
she was screaming on the floor at the end of her wits.
This Rage, played with her split ways, each day took her deeper in her descent.
chemical imbalance they labelled the case- no intent for repent.
Because No one knew what the ******* doctor meant.

Has she really lost it? crossed the point of torment to torture, as her joints
were frosted. Honest, she talked like with her words but different voices .
And sometimes neither, she just lay there making noises.

And it’s pointless to try and help, or try and tell her that i know any better
all i can do is give her a skelp. But when the sharp points come out to play  
she turns noiseless, and stares blankly like something behind them is poisonous. sometimes she even smiles like all the while she’s been enjoying this.
A ploy amidst mania? caving her brain. so I hit her over the head and quickly cleaned up the stains.

she lay there like road ****- slain.  
But it was easier to watch her this way- quietly sleeping outside of her pain.

When she came back around, resounding relief inflated my chest.
For the last five minutes I had barely taken a single breath. Too consumed
with the thought that I’d just stolen her last. I laughed till it passed, then
resumed my calm as I asked:

"Do you want to be here?
Its hurting me to ask.
Do you want to be here? “

She spoke and was already belonging to the past.