I cried unconsolably in public once.
I don’t remember why.

But people walked right past me.
Kind of like the gods when I cry to the sky.

Sometimes, I try to pray.
I’ll talk to the empty room, secretly hoping something’s listening.

I’ll cry to an empty room, hoping something is listening.
But then, I realize, the room is empty.

And my tears are falling to an indifferent world.
My tears are falling to an indifferent god.

My pain is mine alone.

And then I cry, because no one can hear me.
I cry, because I feel stupid for thinking anyone can hear me.

And then I cry harder because I come to the realization
that if someone is listening,
They’re on an invisible plane, walking right past me, watching me cry.

Sometimes, I’ll scream at the ceiling in my room.
I’ll scream, “Why, why why?”
At the things in the sky.

And I curse it. I curse every god I know.

I taunt them to take me.
I curse and scream at my existence and their ineptitude

Because I secretly hope something is listening.

Because if they take me, it means something is listening.
And if someone was listening
And I died
it means I was never alone.

But then I realize I’m pleading with an empty room.

And then I cry, because no can hear me.
I cry, because my cries for death were met with indifference

And then I realize,
That humans don’t want my pain
And the things don’t want it either  

And then I realize,
That I’m either totally alone
Or just another thing, prone to cry
To the things in the sky

I guess I hoped that you
Would get some sleep last night
That come the break of dawn
Things would be alright

But here we are again
And you haven’t slept a wink
Relapse is a ghastly cavern
And you’re standing on the brink

You’re smiling like a maniac
And you rattle on and on
But I was up late worrying
Forgive me if I yawn

Your eyes are open wide
Like you’ve had too much caffeine
I know where this is going
But you’ve made it three years clean

If you could just get sleep
Maybe you’d wake up okay
And these monsters that you battle
Would simply go away

I lie to myself now
Just so I can make it through
I know that you’re in pain
But don’t you know, I’m hurting too?

I know it’s not my battle
And I can’t make you see the light
But I’m so tired of the darkness
And I’m so weary from the fight

And I guess I hoped by now
That this would’ve come to pass
But since it didn’t, won’t you try
To get some sleep at last

there's a war waging on in my head

as it turns out, staying inside these walls while the world passes us by
isn't the best for our creative minds, or is it?
3 am often hits me like a brick and is met with tired eyes and yet another restless night.
crumbled, torn up pages collect in the corner.
the contents will consist of unfinished pieces
and disconnected thoughts;
acting as a representation of my muddled mind.
and it could very well be the wine,
but this state of being is beginning
to feel all too artificial.  
its almost as if we were programmed by our creators only to be destroyed.
and those of us who lack conformity are sent down an assembly line labeled as ‘defective.'  
Our box will read, "Lonely twenty something-year-olds with mild to moderate ******* addictions. CAUTION: has a temper."  

But darling, don't be fooled:
for we are all the same.
We may be hiding behind
our individuality or lack thereof,
but we are, in fact,
only pawns in a game.

my Brain feels tired all out of power
my Limbs feel stiff and weak and sour
my Vision has spots darker than black
a constant pain felt in my Neck
ringing Ears, not as it should
all this damage for what is it good
to remind Me of all i was feeling,

Was the feeling of not being understood.

I’d rather be loved than be wanted
A desire of me means something you need
Something for me to provide or a deed
To help or to guide, inspire or drive
You may want my money
You could need my time
But what if I’m busy?
Or what if I’m tired?
What if I don’t want to fulfil your desire?
Then you won’t want me
But you won’t let me be
You’ll tear me down further
Until I provide what you need

But to be loved, no requirements? Could set my soul free

I just open myself to the pain
Like a rotten wound that never heals
And my cursed soul can never rest,
Consuming itself from within.

My tired eyes have cried so much,
But my silent scream was never heard.
How could I ever think that I could win
On this unfair battlefield which I call life?

The Universe laughs at my stubbornness,
While throwing me back to the ground.
My rotten soul surrenders with a pity song
Searching for what's left of it.

"my body is tired with torn hands
I want to be perfect, more and more
but nothing changes, it only ever hurts"

"when will you be happy?"

"never... I live miserably,
wanting to work myself to exhaustion
waiting for death's release of this worthless vessel
that hates me deeply
perishing underneath dirt and pebble
no one will want me, need me
I will be forgotten and my ideals of perfection soon to be rotten"

Down a path where arteries will meet the scythe.
Deceased silhouettes suffocating in defeat.

A spark struggles to illuminate the way before the feet.
cloaked in disbelief, conversing with grief.

Climbing an empty ladder,
dreams clustered beyond reach.
With worn bones aiming to reach beyond the known peak.