I hear sirens again and suddenly I'm back
Buried in layers and layers of this mask that I put on
Drowning in the addiction of the red lines coming undone
Feeling numb for the pain and wanting more
More
More
More
M   o    r      e
I don't feel good
Maybe some lemonade?

Sounds echo around me
It's almost like I'm on a really fast carrousel
My whole body tingles
I see my half empty glass of lemonade, standing in a wet puddle
There's lemonade on the ground
I'm confused
What happened?
I feel like I'm gonna throw up
****
What the hell did I do
Did I cross the line?
Could I have died if I had done it slightly different?
****
Am I going to die?
****
What should I do?
I can't call someone
But what if I black out again?
**** it
911
**** why did I do that

7 minutes
I can hear the sirens approaching

Checking
I'm fine
I'm not dying
Why did I call?
I shouldn't have called
I ask if I can go back inside
I can't
They have to take me because I did it myself
****
I shouldn't have called
I throw up on the way

I'm waiting
Everything is blurry
I'm completely numb
I cry
I text my therapist the updates
I'm panicking
I don't want people to know
But I don't have the money to pay this
I need to tell my parents
****
It's 2am

I'm back in my room
I'm still haunted by what happened
I'm scared
I miss it
I hate that I miss it
I'm better now
I think
Not really
I only made it worse

The darkness of the fog
the flowers withering away
Once so full of live
Now sadness above towers
The Shows not over
Each drop leaves a scar
Soon it’ll look like a bar

It throbs and aches
It makes me remember
The unseen within
The taste of her lips
The wicked love you give
God forgive my heart
isn’t love the law

A bruise a cut a bit of blood
Hits the ground
The coldness escapes
I’ll clean up soon enough
The once blooming rising flower fields
Burn with my admire for Battlefields

Nightly I wake to the tenderness of knowing
I’m made of blood and bones
My very lifeles exilar
nothing more than a useless knife
Helps me out in the eye of the storm during my darkest nights

The pictures above
The memories in mind
I recall the beauty of your smile
Why my heart beats
Out of sync with my will
The darkness crawls in my skin
Its home is my spine
My bones may bleed a nice
place to stay away

Maybe after tonight
An uncertain event
takes my life
my dreams
my kindness
I’ll be sorry for going so soon
“I tried my best” it’s a lie
may I lay and die
without a dark thought in mind

It has been a year,
A year since the blade kissed my skin,
Since I danced with the sharp edge of pain,
And mistook it for release.

I don’t even remember the last time
The moment I stopped
But I also don’t remember the first.
Was it worth it?

The scars tell a story I don’t want to read,
Yet I wonder,
Are they loud enough?
Do they shout my struggles to a world
That rarely listens?

I was struggling.
I was really, really struggling.

I hate my scars,
The way they carve a map of hurt
Across the canvas of my body.
But they’re also not enough,
Not enough to explain the ache
That made them bloom in the first place.

Still, here I stand
A year further,
A year beyond,
Wrestling with what was
And what remains.

Twelve.
Such a wonderful age.
The human is still young, yet beginning to gain more knowledge.
But my twelve was different.

My twelve wasn't playing with toys
Or reading books all day
No.
It was about working a hard job under my stepfather's violent hand.

About crying out for help
Yet too quiet to be heard.

My twelve was about finding the power of
Turning mental pain into that of physical
About the box of pills in my drawer
And a bottle of water helping them get into my system

My twelve was about going to sleep
And hoping i'll never wake up
About my mother not knowing her child tried to end his life
At its very beginning.

I lay on the floor, feeling the chore  
Of living creeping up through a poisonous door  
That leads to a future that’s already gone.  
Whatever have I done with my life,  
Except letting the dope flow down my dome?

Foam crawls from my mouth as the door rolls down,  
Pink elephants are drumming, parading wide open.  
Stars are shining as they are crying.
And the clock is ticking deeply down my aching mind.

The whole world spins, foam gushing out, the stars are begging and the clock is killing.
Shades of pink like cotton candy swirling about.

I pry open my veins, blue liquid drops  
Mixing with cotton candy as the drumming fades.  
Why do I twist and turn my veins inside out,  
Trying to fit them into the right place?

Evening
A small child walking through the almost empty streets
You know this child very well
Or at least you think so
The child always wears long sleeves
Losing their happiness along with their youth

A child with dead eyes
A child with the stare of an adult
Yet a weak personality
That could be crushed with a single word

They used to be the happiest child in the classroom
Yet now they sit alone
A freak to the society
Because they're different

Maybe being different is bad sometimes