why is life worth living
why does everyone scramble to keep alive
i feel like a leftover
maybe thats why ive discarded myself
refusing to live is a disorder apparently
help me find order in the chaos

ill never be good enough for the life given to me

You dont hesitate when you hurt me
But why am I so hesitant to fight back

Im alright, dont worry

****** battle
A survivor
Exit wounds
Still he moves on
Bruised skin
Armored up
Cracked bones
More room for him to heal

Dont stop believing

When I become passive and unenthusiastic
And my already blackened soul darkens to an even darker shade of black;

When the unknown tears misrepresent my sorrows and my cold sweat is no longer a medal of effort and triumph

When my nails are basically non-existent from my fears eating them away and my hand gets the shake

When people start to have “sympathy” in me and try to understand my tears

When all forms of mental sanity has been terminated, my noggin inside my head but my mind outside my body

People will come and pay tribute to my empty shell, maybe shed a few meaningless tears,
Oh well, its too late now

There are two ways of remembering
Some get written down in pencil
While others get written in pen

The memories written in pen matters to you
It might be a fun trip
Or an embarrassing messup

You write down your most valued memories in pen
They last for ages for you to look back at them

The memories written in pencil doesnt matter to you as much
Might be just another day at work
Or a fantastic dream that you only seem to remember for a split second

You can erase pencil memories at will
But pen memories last

They come back to give you a valuable lesson
And make the person that you are today