I lose myself in silence, well the self that everyone on the outside gets to see, when I'm alone I become nothing but an empty shell, time is going by but nothing is moving, I can feel my life staying the same though my skin feels rougher than it used to, I find myself in crowds, how can I portray an existence so far from the truth so well no one sees what's behind my eyes:
I've been real low
I'd never kill myself though
I've seen the light
And the future look bright
I've been high as a kite
I smoke blunts all night
It's the only way I won't feel so tight
I've come to far to end it now
I'm going to live, and I know exactly how
I will live every day like its my last
And I will not be held down by my past
I knit all of my breaths together,
collect them and name them 'life'.
It helps me to wake up everyday
and not slit my wrists with a knife.
I survive and breathe and feel,
and it's hard but I keep on trying,
to fake a smile every now and then,
while on the inside I am dying.
But I learned that art is a good friend,
It stays along no matter the weather.
And maybe I have my art too;
I can be alive and dead - together.
Thick fire consuming my social being.
Ice cold stare confirming that I welcome solidarity.
Silent lips with the power to isolate.
Arms empty yearning to be full, but bearing fists held tight.
Reminding you that I will fight.
A slave to my emotions.
A puppet to my mind.
Bitter from lack of control and weak from loneliness.
The only thing that makes me sane like you is that even I don't understand me.
I'm a puzzle incomplete.
Of no interest to anyone until I'm allowed to be freed.
I know little of that sweet word.
For in comes so seldom and leaves to soon.
And so I'll stay in my room.
Bloody and bruised,we hold our heads up high.
We keep blocking the noise inside our heads by cursing at the sky,singing the anthem of the damned.
Hell bound,we only pray for things we need to make us feel alive.
Only when tucked in "I love you's" or "I'm a mess" do we say "God".
We keep committing crimes,using our sob stories as our excuses.
As if your bruises and wounds are enough to provide vindication,
As if our pain could justify our sins.
Neglected social casualties,we glorify our alienation,use our insecurities as weapons and wound others instead.
I'm sorry because we can't be saved.I'm sorry because we are told that,"it's all in your head".I'm sorry because growing up means succumbing to the cancer that is life.
I'm sorry,I really am.
I can touch, but, I can't feel
I don't listen,I just, hear.
In, my shadow, I sense you, near
I can't escape. You're now, who I am.
I created, can't destroy,
I can't label, have not a name.
I can't face, so ashamed,
It's, ruined me, I have no faith.
I can, smile but, feel no joy
I am loud yet I, am shy.
I have tears. My eyes, raw dry
I can't get out, this dark inside.
If I am done, why am I still trying?
I am able.
If only willing, so I take on this with all, my being.
From the rough, will emerge, a diamond.
I am human and this demon is mine.
I don't know which year I died
If it was when my mom tried to pick me up in kindergarten, but was to drunk to take me home
Or if it was when I had no friends and got bullied every day
But I sure as hell do know one thing for sure
I revived from the dead
I raised from my grave
stood with broken bones
I will have these scars for life
But today, I realized
This makes me who I am
And I'm damn proud of myself
Because I survived.