My words fuel a fire
Embers glowing bright

My steps stir the ash
Sending clouds into the sky

My lungs breathe the smoke
Dark and heavy

My eyes follow the sparks
Jumping and flying

My body feels the heat
Burning in my chest

My brain is melting away
My feelings lost in smoke
My thoughts burning away

My life is in flames
I am burnt out

We are tired of years ago tired of to be tired.
I’m a clock in the shape of a woman, counting months in weeks
Weeks in days in hours in minutes in seconds
Recorded in the strands that make me
Water slipping through my hands, I’ll ask you to keep it safe
But you only have your own hands to use.

i need to stop
setting myself on fire
to keep you warm.

I’m tired.  
I’m depleted.
I’m done.
Things should be getting better
why are they getting worse.  
My energy has disappeared
I’m left with nothing.

I see only ugly.
Ugly in the mirror.
Ugly in the world.
Ugly in what they call life.

Why can’t I just go.
Why do I have to stay.  
Please can I just be done.  
I’ve been here for so long.
I can’t take it anymore.

I can barley breathe
No I can’t breathe.
I’m holding on
to the last breathe
That I have inside me
I’m losing.
Please just let it be ok if I go.

do you know what its like to feel your future slip away from you?
to lose all hope in your life, to not understand the consequences
not understand the pain you will end up putting on yourself
do you know what its like to not have the will to change

I am laying on the ground
staring up at the ceiling,
nothing left to try for.

I lay in this dark room,
for so long,
trying to get the feeling of feeling nothing.
What some consider death,
I consider heaven.

Then I hear footsteps and the door
opens
and the light floods in
and it's my mom
and she yells "clean your room!"
but all I wanna do is
wipe,
wipe,
wipe myself off of the Earth.
But can I say that? No.
So, I just say "I'm tired."
But she doesn't know what that means.
For I am not tired and want to sleep,
like in the sense of fatigue.
no, no-no
I'm tired of living and life.
And the action of walking,
talking,
and moving.

For what you consider
death,
I consider heaven.

He was chasing love,
Because he didn’t know
What else to chase,
Because he’d had enough
Of his everyday life,
No feelings, just thoughts
No passion, no care,
Half asleep, half the time,
Blurriness clouds his
Mind, hard to sleep when
It’s time, constant

Struggle to find, someone
That he can rely on,
Someone that’ll reply and
Someone that’ll try,
Someone to make a fuss
Over him, someone
That’ll see, the good in him,
His buried happiness,

Hidden by the fake smiles,
Pretending to laugh,
But he didn’t find it funny and
It’s funny because,
The things he does find funny,
Aren’t funny anymore,
Working, eating, meeting,
Normal life’s a bore,
Apart from sleep of course.