Tell me I'm not this. The blue began to flood
inside a room once painted black. Tell me I don't
see this. The orb of morning peering its start right to
my eyelids that can't even close. Tell me I don't hear
this. Birds chirping for sunrise, playing lightly as my
lullaby. Tell me I'm dreaming. My leg still twitches,
seven in the morning, because I'm afraid I'll lose myself
before dawn. Shedding emotion in fast waves of flight,
tell me I didn't run through time, making stars out
of daylight. Orange in the sky, and not from shy
headlights in insomniac cars. Yellow, making its fellow
opening for my uncomforted sleep, not a nightlight like before,
no. Tell me I'm not this.

Like a pumpkin, I
Was cleaned and replaced with a
Carved, fake black smile-

Popping stars just like
Balloons; I darkened my night
To feel more at home-

​I still haven't found land. I steer my crew in circles, drunken and adventurous, hoping they never see how hopeless I am. I cannot handle this power without something powering me; I cannot see straight and somehow that's less blinding than my own doubts. Than my insecurities, and pain I deal with. I'm afraid their trust will decimate, that this ship will sink. Far down, far away. I dream of the clouds being an island to me. A home. Familiarities I rarely feel in these murky, vast waters. I've let my thoughts wander.. farther than I should have. Do you blame me? I always knew my life held a bitter end. A small fight before the ocean enthralls me once more, capturing me, and I sink. Lower than I ever have. Losing my life to the very thing that kept me from living-

your brain, darling. what happened to it?
I remember when we once were fine.
but blood has left your body, boy.
you've got a broken heart and ****** up mind.
but why? what made your thoughts blank out?
and what caused each emotion to disappear?
was it mommy? you can tell me.
after all, she's not even here.
she left you, boy. she's not returning.
I know it hurts. but it's certainly true.
was it addiction? or was it her freedom?
what trapped her more? her problems, or you?
onto all of this, did you ever try?
you wake up to sadness, that's all that you give.
im so ******* sorry that everyone leaves you,
but it's no shock when you act like a kid.
moral of the story? don't ******* be you.
I hate how you act, I hate when you breathe.
just go ******* cry and tell yourself that you're nothing,
until that's all your ******* heart can perceive.

somehow I don't believe you,
don't go out... its harder to go through..
be a mess,
take the fight,
and hate the world.
my time is overdue,
I've done nothing to show to you.
life taught me flight,
so goodbye,
I hate the world.

if moments... could show us
a good time,
then maybe
my mind
would change.
but moments,
waste moments
of good times.
and maybe,
I've lost my mind

I'm really not who I thought I was,
how do you move on with life
when you place it to pause?
I am the boss to my own mind,
but cower at each door it confines,
to condone the person I could be and
wrong the person I wish I was,
I'm the boss of my own mind
but a slave to what it does.
Died to a coward that
hides behind demands,
and the density of this reality is
what weighs my bones down,
some of you know what this is now.
What it means to be shackled
to what you hate,
here have a go at the scariest
things your head can make.
The thoughts that break
your heart but tell it to go
faster,
faster,
faster....
Running after something
you'll never reach,
and as I'm running forever
I can't move my feet
off this bed,
inside my head I'm growing tired,
so my eyes will never open;
and I'm hoping you know that I fear
when I get older my memories will wake
and it'll take me,
too late to save me.
Why bother even
waiting?

The attic attacks me, won't back
me up in fights with my heart.
Dust will conclude how long I've
been afraid, cleaned for the
dusk; I don't know my name.
Wading in rivers for its own trade,
confront the buyer at higher
stakes than the owner, lower I fall.
"Tone down the pain" mediocre
control over what I am and
what I will become, my thumbs
pricked for another accusation.
I'll discuss my problems only the
world can understand, privated
and classified; I am just a man.
I am just a boy, and these passages
aren't used to show how much
better I've gotten, only if I say I do.
These words and all the strings
of things I can collect, are something
much more deep than you'll ever comprehend.
you believe I am recovering,
because that's all you're allowed to see.
Can't you sense the great dispense
that one day I'll look up from your feet?

I'm emotionally detached,
in twenty nine days ninety panic attacks,
I see through your eyes,
straight to your past,
the times that you meant it when you really laughed.
Your crescents hate light,
and descend through the day,
I'm deciding my mind between painful and sane,
dividing a line between not okay and opaque.
I know my life's doubtful,
more mournful than most.
Lost in translation as feeling the least,
a leash on my brain and one sense of release.
I wanna meet sharpness to puncture my breath,
rather than losses I can't reconnect-

I'm not staying,
it's my blame.
I'll leave the innocent;
I'm not the same.
I've got blood on my hands.
Pressure to understand.
You're right.
You've always been.
I tend to forget.
I won't bother you,
still my existence bothers me.
My mind smothers me.
The nights scare me;
comfort is scarce.
The dark makes things worse,
and this silence hurts.
It can be so loud,
the noise of nothing.
The sounds of your thoughts,
utterly isolated.
I love y'all;
but I don't love myself
I can't live up to what you all think of me-