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I don't need alcohol,
I don't need a buzz.
I don't need tobacco.
I don't need fake fun.

Music is my drug,
one that keeps me alive.
Even when living
isn't worth it at all.

Music is my drug.
It understands me more.
Humans can't comprehend
what I feel like when I'm awake.

Music is my drug.
It's only fault is keeping me awake.
I am tired,
but at least I have something that cares.
Claws that scrape down my arm.
Claws that draw crimson blood.
Claws that whisper,
"You're done..."

Claws that scrape the metal walls.
Claws that tear me to shreds.
Claws that whisper,
"You're a mistake..."

Claws that scrape my heart.
Claws that are seared in my mind.
Claws that whisper,
"I wish you'd never been apart..."

Claws that scrape my soul.
Claws they scrape my irises.
Claws that whisper,
*"I wish your mother had been bare..."
Hospital every year,
then every two.
This fragile heart needs mending,
for it's more than *******.

Two surgeries,
three months
and seven years.
There were so many tears.

My heart is so fragile,
it needs great care.
I will be fine,
as long as it's there.

Aspirin for six months
and probably more when I'm fixed again.
Medicine and hospitals are part of me,
as am I part of them.

I was born this way,
though I wish it weren't true.
It was merely a mistake,
or was I the accident?

"I don't mind hospitals."
It's a partial lie.
They seem normal to me,
but a screaming child
keeps me awake
when I try to sleep
the beeps away.

Let's take a moment
to appreciate
that we have technology
that keeps my heart awake.

I'm not alone-
I already know.
My mother was there too.
Maybe that's why I'm so askew.

The nurses are nice,
the surgeons are kind.
I just wish the matresses
were a bit softer... (:
Yep, I have a heart condition.
Like an animal inside you,
trying to get free.
So painful,
the demons killing me.

Like someone's strangling you
from the inside.
Lungs in agony
in a dreadful line.

It's hard to swallow,
it's hard to breathe.
Thinking of the problems
within me.

"I am a mistake,
so why should I be?
All I do is hurt
those who are closest to me."

These are the thoughts
within my brain
as I try to clear them,
but doing so in vain.

I am trying to swallow
the feeling of disdain.
But I am choking,
melting away.

Soon enough,
the demons run and flee,
leaving me with thoughts
that will never leave me be.

It's like a battle,
right in my lungs,
right in my mind.
I become so blind,
that it's hard to be me.
I suffer from anxiety attacks
when my nervous system racks.
It sets me away
in the wolf pack.
Everyone is writing them,
I guess I should too.
It's a new year,
everyone says it's a new start.
When really you stay the same.
You never restart.
I have no New Year resolutions,
for I will not stick with them.
Things will get in the way.
I don't see the point,
so I shall not bother.
Everyone have a good year,
even though I will stay here.
My poems
are not all the same.
Mixed emotions,
you see.
Some are depressed,
some are just sad.
Some are happy,
and some are mad.
I am a poet,
I write what I feel,
although I am as numb
as my fingers
on a cold winter day.
Round or square.
I don't really care as long
as they're there. Crispy and
golden, filled with sticky syrup.
Topped with butter which melts
like ice. Take one bite and you
are in love. They are the best
breakfast to ever be on
one's tongue.
I really love waffles. ♥
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