Roses are red,
strawberries too.
I went to Med,
I really miss you.

I did my best
heart on my chest
I went to the fest
Oh my! What a zest!

I wants had many friends,
I was social and Popular,
Life was good didn't think it would change,
One day I woke up and nothing was the same,
That's when it all happened and started to begin,
I lost my control and don't know why,
33 years old,
feeling  like I'd rather die,
no more control,
It interferes in my life,
the soul begins to rip out my chest,
my soul I'm dying inside,
Day to day,
Week to week,
Month after month,
I hide in the shadows,
They begin to fade,
I hope not to see another day,
I no longer can work hardly go anywhere,
When will this stop I hate feeling so scared,
Only leaving the room for appointments cause I hate being anywhere,
Everyday is pretty much the same,
When I go somewhere I put myself through all the shame,
I start my journey along the streets,
Walking to the bus I hold my breath deep,
Knowing what will happen,
I try not to fuss,
Keeping myself together,
In my mind that's a must,
Oh I can feel it,
It's starting to creep,
I don't want to cry because no more attention I want from anyone's eye's,
I get on the bus I sit in a chair,
Before you know it people start to stare,
Got my hoodie over my head,
My hat turndown tight,
Trying to hide myself,
These feelings aren't right,
I can't take the embarrassment of showing my face,
Hoping nobody will remember me being in this place,
Some people might stand up and move away,
My presence is hard to bare cause i know,
I feel it everywhere,
Can't really blame them if they move to another chair,
But that's when I know It's another one of those days,
I just look down hoping This will all just go away,
My destination is getting near,
I can see it from here,
I began to stand up and it's obviously
clear,
I don't look back at seat,
Afraid someone might say something
to make me feel more incomplete,
I have a mental illness,
How could this be,
I've always been normal,
Never was there anything wrong with me,
Triple diagnosis that wasn't me,
High anxiety psychosis
schizophrenia,
How could this be,
I was the one that people wanted around,
Now I  definitely can't be found,
The phone use to ring all the time,
Now it doesn't even make a sound,
I can't even walk into a store without my anxiety starting a war,
My sweat starts to drip right to the floor,
My shirt is soaked,
My hoodie is too,
Along with my pants,
I don't know what to do,
It's like I fell into a lake,
Or wet my pants,
Sometimes i wonder if that's even a chance,
So I live my life alone and sad,
Can't be around people and this make's me mad,
I'm a  prisoner locked up in my own space,
Wishing that one day I'll wake up and this won't be the case,
I want my life back,
I want my wish to come true,
I want to be me again,
oh how I wish this would just come true.

Bugs are crawling all over my hands; yet they're the kind only I can feel and see -
the germs I visualise as cockroaches covering everything around me.
A 3rd change of clothes in 5 hours to protect myself against their power to bring me harm,
my umpteenth hand wash trying to get rid of them; my brain turbulent with alarm.

My head is noisy; full of chaotic sadness and voices,
peculiar images and blurry characters are all I can see - not by choice.
I cannot sleep or think let alone live,
waiting for The End; I went mad with the battle so determinative.

Sitting on the shower floor
with the water raining down on me more and more.
A map of water induced wrinkles trace my skin as if by disguise,
with a river I cannot stop running from my eyes;
intoxicated with madness, these voices I need to **** -
so with a bottle of ***** I wash down a pretty little pill.

Tonight I lay with just my teddy to hold dear; loneliness creeping in - no doubt,
feeling like a child who just wants to be loved and cared about,
wishing to be protected from the monsters inside my head
as I bury myself under my covers and cry myself to sleep in bed.

I lied
Over and over and over again
There's nothing to be done that could've been done with what I gave you

Friends, I am sorry I **** at being just that and if you say I am a good friend
Look at what I just did, good friends don't do that to others
But, I love you all and this is the truth

Good people don't do this
Selfish people do
Weak people do
Cowards do

Family, I am sorry for lying to you and saying I'm alright
But most of all I'm sorry about how much of a problem I was
For wasting your time and effort and money
I'm sorry for causing you pain
I love you all and this is the truth

And to all others whom it may concern
Whether I passed you in the hall
Or was in your class
Or played on your team:
The world isn't that bad of a place
I just got the wrong mind
And if you look for hope its there
It just takes some time

And I love you all and this is the truth

Dear reader,

He was a child when misfortune came knocking on his door
His step fathe–
the monster entered his room drunk
It told him that he should’ve died along with his ****** father
The monster’s fist came crashing on his face
Baby teeth went flying out of place
He felt like he was dying
The whole time crying
His mother’s name he was calling
She came in running
With a rush of adrenaline she pushed the monster aside
A plethora of calming words she confides
And through the child’s eyes
All faded into the void
The wailing cries of banshees both scarlet and lapis woke his soul
Ravens in navy blue told him how the monster took his mother’s life
And how that poor beast took its own with the pull of a slipknot breaking its neck
Bulbs flashing,
Ideas popping above every head in the crime scene
Covering what was what the very definition of home
And much like that definition
Emotions left the child
Leaving nothing but pain alone

Like a single snowflake rolling into an avalanche as it falls down from the everest
Our child grew into a young man
And much like that destructive force of nature
He found it amusing
To wreck lives wherever he was put in
A red river rushed right out of a jagged hole
Stalactites and stalagmites,
Blood stained,
Cracked as they crashed on polished tiled floors
Just as soon as a five year old scavenger sees a half-empty bottle containing granules as white as the broken horses from before
Our young man empties his stomach and cleanses his mind
Regurgitating everything
He has taken in ever since he was put in the care
Of the man he just killed with stomach cleansers
Foster,
As cruel as his care can be,
Immediately took him to another plain
Pain followed right away
Like tailwinds that whip what a storm could not destroy
The rapture seemingly came early that year
Designated guardians fell like raindrops
Blood drizzled on printed flowers on the wall
As our killer wallflower craved to see handprints made of blood
Replace them all
Red seas emerged wherever he went
Not leaving a single body alive

My unseen hands touched the cold faces of bodies that met an early death
Just because they have met our young man
Now a revolting adult
It is my fault!
If I had not taken pity on that toothless child none of this would’ve happened
I cannot say that I enjoyed reaping the souls
Of those he enjoyed to reap too early
He was a convict giving a cruel verdict to the jury that didn’t know him
They did not choose to know him and that is also my fault
If he ever comes knocking on your door,
I apologize
For not taking his life as a child.

Sincerely yours,
*Death

I hear drums, late at night pulsing intense beats
      I hear violins, sad yet eerie and drown in dark
            I hear the piano, it cries of the night ahead
                  No one hears them, just me... My own private symphony.

The voices return
But you're nowhere in sight
no longer see what is wrong, what is right
I just can't seem to find the light
Voices scream I have no where to turn
Sparkling music plays
Nightmares become reality
Losing thoughts of my mortality
Just a small abnormality in my mentality
Please remind me of brighter days
I want them to leave
But it scares me when they go
And I know I have nothing to show
It's real please don't go
Don't leave me alone to grieve
I need you now
Just save me somehow.

They can't tell what's wrong with you from the outside. They can't tell what's wrong with you from the outside. They can't tell what's wrong with you.*

Is my illness truly  invisible?
Or am I just deluding myself again?
My thoughts are racing, falling, tumbling,
maybe their right to call me insane.

Don't ask me to speak because I don't want to;
words don't mean a thing any more
Instead I write and write onto sheets of white
into the abyss my heart is poured.

I hear their screams in my head all the time
a pleading in my ear,
I'm the one who's living this hell
so why is it me you fear?

I carry on breathing everyday
despite the creatures living inside
and I will keep living in every way
until one day I don't even cry.