I cant ever find the right words to say.
If it's about love, depression, anything
No words
Sometimes no feelings
How do I express how I feel?
How do I show them how much they mean to me?
Why am I like this?
A messed up person
Cant go with given name
Cant go with the right gender
Wrong pronouns
Wrong hairstyle
Wrong clothes
"Be more feminine" they say
"Grow your hair out"
But it doesn't feel right
Then there's the other people
Do what you want
What feels right
Everything will get better
"You didn't **** up. It's ok. It's part of the process"
The words my sibling says when I relapse
The words that I'm starting to believe every time I sh
Its ok.
Itll get better
People love you for who you are
Just around some people
You have to fake

If they knew what happened yesterday
What would they say?
What would she say to her man
If everything went according to the plan?

If she knew the pain i feel
Would she still think it's not real?
Would she regret the things he had done?
If after all of this, i will be gone.

Lost in addictions
And my own sorrow
My whole life a fiction,
With no tomorrow.

I write this words for me to remember
That i was once a child as well.
About what happened this December
And that i went through hell.

Whats your biggest mistake?

Never to be known, I said
As a smile grew on my face

To be known is to be vulnerable
And I'd rather not know myself
Not let them get close enough
To see the hurt beneath my eyes
Then to admit
My true soul
In all its glory
In all the tears it earned
In all the misery it enjoyed

To be known is to be loved
He said
I agree i thought
But deep inside I know
A men would never be the one
I'd like to know

As these words leave my pen
It hurts
In my soul my head my stomach
I might throw up i might not live
After a confession so selfish

"Oh child, to love is not to know
But to believe in the hope
To heal every broken soul"

My heart it hurts
It breaking my rips from the inside out
It leaves me rooting right through
Makes me frow up all the love i have for you

Every cut on my skin proves
Im willing to lern how to lose
Myself even more than you
They ***** the love i cannot give you

My head is full of dreams and stories
Stiffed to the brim with new idees
You're in every happy ending
In every book i erase myself

Let me paint you in the morningsun
Capture you grinning to the girls you love
Let me use this brush and paint
To give you an insight of your light

Every tear fell from my cheeks
Proves im not just a freak
I feel and feel and cant help but think
Oh how better life would be
without existing

The scent through the door is clear
It smeels like rotten pease and leaves
It feels like a forgotten dream
It feels like a missed opportunity

And when she'll die ill be in pices
Will you see it will you be there
To safe me from ripping open
My heart is butcherd bleeing broken

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?