Do you know what it feels like to live with this pain, the pain of your body going numb or the shocks of lightening that spread throughout your body. This feeling of helplessness when you realize you dont what the **** is wrong with you all you know is that every time it happens you want to curl in a ball and cry, everyday is getting worse and these pills arent working. Your vision starts to haze and your breathing starts to come out in pants your chest is crying in pain and the next thing you know your throat and face swell up. Your crying in pain but your trying to hide it from everyone, but those little random episodes start to stay longer than before 1 minute turns to 30 and 30 minutes turn into 3 hours you cant walk you can barely talk and there is absolutely nothing you can do to help ease the pain. Your just left a crying mess without hope...

Someone moves like a python striking prey,
someone screams at the top of their voice moving away,
and suddenly it's as though I'm back to you and me,
and I relive all the things you'd do to me.

Someone brushes me by; touching my skin,
and a friend kisses me on the cheek with a friendly grin -
but I flinch violently; scared of what might happen, evergrowing eerier
because you used to leave not kisses but bruises laced on my exterior.

Someone is drinking straight from a bottle of whiskey
not caring about his actions which really are rather risky.
And I'm reminded of you and the way you used to drink
and how you'd blame It for the way you'd throw my head against a wall with a clink.

Someone spills wine onto the floor without a care,
but all I can do is panic and stare,
because had that been me when I was with you,
I'd have been your punchbag every waking moment - you know it's true.

Ever since I was young, I looked down upon myself as someone weak forever,
when I looked upwards I couldn't breathe but I wanted to, I really wanted to.
When I see my soul freeing itself from my own hurtful feelings corrupted by me,
I begin to notice me as something I don't want to be at all.
I am a tortured soul inside a body I don't want to own,
I feel so fragile yet I want to be strong, I wanted to be strong.

Don't go away, please listen to my tale, everybody isn't listening any more.
I walk this broken road, trying to hold onto myself.
I look straight with a high head pretending I know what's best, but real truth is I am too upset.
I can tell you what to do but it doesn't stop me becoming a hypocrite too.
I walk this cold blizzard clutching to myself when no one sees the storm.
I see the bubble drops of water seeping down my body,
feel my physical structure, after all that's the only thing anyone cares about.
I could have the kindest heart, never want to break you, never want to hurt you,
but I have noticed that nobody cares about your emotions, but their own.
I think that our species will deprive because of mankind no longer holding hands in battle,
we only care about the individual spirit in our heads.
But again, I can't lie when I say I'm rather selfish myself, but I try not to be.
There are moments I feel out of my head when I say that we can do more than anyone else can.
But I feel my used body become a vessel for a slowly breaking soul, I don't want to hoard myself inside. I swear I'm a good soul.

The day sin took over my little mind was the day I felt free inside,
when I saw how much power someone could have over others I abused it badly.
But I saw someone raise from the ashes, she wasn't a soul but a tale of past ones,
I saw her fire sweep in forward in front of me releasing my past mistakes.
I know how much someone can feel pain, because I've felt it myself.
I dread to think about the worsened physical pain of the body,
but one can complain about the physical pain but the mental pain stays beside you.
I don't care for what body I own but for the soul that is inside of it.
I don't want it, I don't need it, I don't want to remember pain any more,
I don't want it, I don't need it, I want to forget the painful emotions.

It never gets old,
Even when the injury is nothing odd,
We never get used to it,
Its even worse when you can't even move to your favourite beat,
All you can do is just lay down on a seat,
Brings about anguish,
One which you can't really distinguish
From the previous one,
Because the feeling never gets old to anyone,
Makes us mad, >:O
And our loved ones  sad :(
Pain,pain,pain,
Despite all this,physical pain
Is way less than emotional pain.

Mozart changes the color
of eyes from deep blue
to see green.
Work with me and I'll
summon up everyone's
artificial ancient animals.

Sleek thin machines
whizz with mechanism
pumping out more and more
machines to make machines
to make metals
for more machines.
Shine chrome greased
and spinning while
white coated retrievers
pace exactly random,
occasionally checking
their clip boards.
Machines whizz on,
we could tune a cello
with their perfect hum.
We could tune a tuning fork
with their perfect hum.
Machines for materials
for machines that melt
and remold old machines
to new.  Born machines.
Wet black discs
slide clean downward
only to spiral
upward again.

Clarinet to oboe,
slurred crescendo
back down in again.

Then forward:
Back,
Up,
Left,
and left music
back down in again.

"Where's our end?"
and back down in again.

"I see the top!"
and back down in again.

"Talk to me, please!"
and back down in again.

"Throw me a float!"
and back down in again.

And sink, and sink
back down in again
back down in again
back down in again

My chest has been hurting
And I don't know if it's
A medical issue or an
Emotional issue.

Being physically close to someone does not bother me- I like being touched. I like hugging and the feeling of someone running their fingers over my back and arms.
But once that physical touch gets a little too close to emotion I push it away. Once someone starts to feel like they have feeling for me, or that I for them, I immediately think of ways to push them away in such a slight way that they do not realize what is happening.
Because the truth is.. The fingerprints left on my skin, the touch I can not scrub away in the shower, will be gone. I will have a new set of skin in a matter of weeks. Skin that hasn't been touch, hasn't been tainted with someone's prints.
But the words that they said to me will forever be printed on my heart. Each letter stamped into my mind where it'll wait to hurt me again, filed away under "Do not go back" until it gets dark and I wander through the shelves trying to find someone, something to occupy myself with. Something to remind myself that I was not always this alone..

My mirror is covered in cracks and flaws, and some parts that make you look fatter, like a funhouse mirror, and it clings to dust and dirt and fingerprint smudges of oil.
But I don't replace it.
Because sometimes it's easier to spot the flaws in the mirror than to fixate on my flaw riddled body,
Flaws that aren't just skin deep,
The night is beautiful but deadly.
When you can't see, you have to find new flaws to detest,
It's addictive to beat yourself,
I'm in an abusive relationship where I don't mean to hurt me and I can't leave myself-
And there's some macabre satisfaction in the dependable breaking,
Like I know every night I will go to sleep hating the fact that I am still breathing,
There are memories haunting me from as young as ten,
Things that shouldn't still be repeating,
I can't work out how it just keeps accumulating,
Words spoken
And thoughts
And I don't know if anyone else feels sentences as deeply as I do,
And I'm running out of personality to stick pins into,
Trying to fix myself with voodoo
They say negative reinforcement is the quickest way to correct behaviour but I make the same mistakes
it's not okay that I constantly feel like I'm failing,
But life is more than a high-stakes game
And everyone's saying that all teenagers feel this way
But it's not reassuring to know that my generation is one of lost souls and hate.
And we're all really angry,
Whether it's because we'll be working till we're 90 or conflict left undated
Racism still exists and the Chancellor of Germany is getting called a ****
While anyone Asian is labelled Indian or ****
And eating disorders run rampant through the territory where anorexic girls get priority while the boy who binge eats is just called fatty.
And this is where I insert a statistic to convince you that we're unhappy but I refuse to be quantified just so I can mean something.
And it doesn't let up,
Compliments are uncomfortable and seeing good in yourself is arrogance, criticisms self pity
And you never know if they want to help you or just ensure that you understand the importance of conformity
It doesn't take much to convince someone you're okay.
There's not much you need to say
And if you can laugh then you're fine and we know no one checks the closets for skeletons because they're filled with people too afraid to come out of them
People accept 'fine' because they just need to know that they asked the question,
And besides, deeper questions get stuck beneath my skin.
And even when someone else compliments me I don't believe them,
Pushing away others cause I need distance,
Sometimes I feel sick from the level of enforced interaction but people only see the side they want to see.
When I told my friends about the time I struggled with suicidal thoughts they expressed their sympathies and it hasn't come up since.
Romanticising illnesses leaves me unsure if I am suffering or if I just want to be,
And part of me has to agree that diagnosis and its certainty would be better than the admission that life is just like this
You can't get better if it's something you can't fix
I don't think I'm broken but maybe I was made to the wrong specifications cause it feels like I am missing something but at the same time there is too much of me and not just physically
I am choking on the sheer volume of my past, present and impeding future
Trying to get it together
Told that it's okay if I don't know where I want to go
But in year 9 we picked our gcses which determined our a levels which determined our university courses which determine our career, if we even get there.
I keep finding new problems
I am still haunted by the old ones.
But I'll be okay,
Cause today
Someone told me to love myself.