I tried writing a happy poem.
But in turn it reminded me how truly unhappy I was.

I'm happy when I sing in vacant places,
or when I see shadows in open spaces.
I'm happy when I was with family,
and sad when I think of how happy we were,

Now its 4 strangers who claim they're related, and when asked how we are, put on painted faces.

Now I'm sad and happy is nowhere to be found.
I think I'm happy but sadness reminds me I'm not.
I'm sadder than sad's sad and happiness laughs,
and miss my Moms hugs and Dad's morning coughs.

I miss having hope in something that was certain,
where faith was assured and separation forgotten,
now its me living my fears and my happiness rotten.

I'm happy when I'm not sad, and its not often.
I'm happy when I speak to you and your soft voice makes my rough heart feel like cotton
candy and lipstick and makeup to cover the hurt.
because now this is a sad poem and theres tears on my shirt.

13 slices of hell embedded on my wrist,
glowing bright red from beneath my bracelets.

No matter how much I try to suppress her art...
She paints her master pieces like gems
hidden in the dark.

Lucent,my cuts are there and
she no longer wants to be concealed.

I pile on more bracelets.
Trying to contain her brilliant works of art.

But instead of disappearing...
she takes out brush ready to sear,
"Elizabeth,I want them to know that I'm here."