How can we live in a society that lies and manipulates
And endorses wars over a man in the sky?
How can we stand idly by whilst others run terrified through streets
That bleed with the essence of a tortured soul?
We have our lives handed to us on a silver platter
Whilst others can barely salvage morsels enough that, even when bonded together with all the dregs of an exhausted heart,
Barely manage to sustain a child.

Perhaps because it's easier to look at the moon as a smudge in the sky,
Softened by sheets the same as the indifference that clouds our mind and allows us to stare uncaringly ahead,
Not thinking of the panic stricken eyes that stare at the exact same moon as pandemonium courses through their streets.

How are we meant to clear the prejudices that have settled, cloying in our minds
Like the early autumn mist?
The gnarled fingers of hate hold us so tightly that our vision is
Blackened around the edges and we cannot see what lurks on the fringes of society.

The questions swim around aimlessly,
Fish darting across a tabloid, printed scales screaming for recognition.
But what is a question without an answer?
Meaningless.
Just like the corpses littered as morbid confetti,
Carnage celebrating the scarlet essence of man spilled in vain.

Don't get cocky. You're just a coincidence. You're a mash of atoms. You are not special.
You're another group of cells that wanders until snatched by death. You will not leave anything. You do not matter.

You could be the president, you could be a star- you could have an army. It does not matter. You do not matter. You will not leave anything. You cannot, and that is for the best.
You are so, so small. You cannot effect anything. You are just a droplet. A droplet of atoms & brain cells, that goes around telling others they're a special droplet, when you're lying.
But, it's okay. What's a lie in a world of pretentious little atoms sipping tea & reading books?
Make of it what you please, little being. You're no special snowflake.
You are nothing.

You may not be able
to see the first signs of fall because
it shows up the same way
as love does
you feel it first
Over night suddenly everything
is somehow,
Different
As if Mother Nature and us
are connected
we are find ourselves changing
with the seasons
And as the nights grow
colder
the happier I will feel

° /sshharp/
° You, sharppened your knives
° Bullets ready, what's the point?
° Arrows pointing back like boomerangs
° **** words darting hollow places
° Me, framed in zebra circles
° You, lost between these pointless races

today
im finding every explanation inadequate
every consolation lacking
every kind word not nearly kind enough
every song irrelevant
and this whole "life" thing
just so **** pointless

Depression, anxiety
and everything in between
these are the things that trouble me
these are the things that burden me
these are the things that destroy me

I've always avoided asking for help.

The thought that I might have to ask somebody for help...
it made me feel lesser,
it made me feel weaker,
it made me feel stupid.

I mean how can a human being who is supposed to be so smart,
need help with something?

at least that's what I've always told myself.
I've always told myself that if I needed help I didn't do it right,
I didn't listen well enough,
I didn't try hard enough.
I didn't try.

If I need help, I shouldn't bother asking.
Because you can't fix broken.

But today, I realized something else.

I'm not afraid of asking for help.
Sure, I can take advice and I can listen well,
and I can get good grades and I can work real hard.

I go to therapy every week.
I always think that it's helping.

But then I have a breakdown again. And it breaks me down.
I have to scream, I can't breathe, I have to cry, I have to sob.
I feel like my insides are being ripped out.
I feel like there's a demon inside me
that is constantly trying to get out.
That's what my panic attacks and anxiety attacks are like.

But every week, I go to my therapist and I tell him I'm doing fine.

Because he asked me how I'm doing, and I'm doing fine.

But I am not fine.


I think I'm so afraid
of asking for help,

*because what if you can't help me?

If only lovers lasted
As long as mistakes

What's the point?
She has been honest...
But have you trusted?