There are people who cut themselves,
Some of these people are the most sane people I know.

There are people who burn themselves,
They have some of the brightest personality's I have seen.

Some of these people you may tell,
Go **** yourself.
It's all for attention.
Or maybe even,
Cut a little deeper, it's not like anyone cares.

But what you don't see is,
They are all ready battling a pain inside,
It's not something they can just up and hide.

It's almost as if there are demons inside,
Telling them the lies,
That there eyes are to far apart or,
Their thighs are twice their size.

These people were once happy,
They were once beautiful in there own eyes.

But now they have broken,
It's almost like their souls are shattered window panes.

But you don't understand is all they seem to feel is pain.

Pain is becoming like their middle name.

It's all they feel,
All they breath.

It's almost like every breathe they take,
It's almost like breathing acid.

But just remember some of them are,
The most sane.

People use to throw me behind their shadows but I know i can't win this battle. People judge how i look but some people don't know that you can read them like a book, page by page, cover by cover always tells a different story.  But there is one that you still haven't heard and that story is mine. I  know that i am not boring so here is my story, When i was born i felt like there was a storm. The smoke of all the drugs fill the air as i feel it hit my bare skin. i was abused and brused and i can't handle it no more and now from telling this story supposly i am a skinny ***** but i tht is not true. As my page by page covers in blood i no that i still haven't won i think my pain is going away but it getd worst the next day. It feel that if sucide is calling my name but i can't end this day think my loved ones will never get to no my real life and it may scare some people may say that i am insane but this is me and my story no one have the right to judge me for who i am i am me and no one is going to change that.

This house made of brick and stone,
glass and wood,
now crumbles to the earth beneath me.
But this house was empty
long before it was gone.

The people inside,
the people
the people
the monsters,

They ripped open their lungs
and filled themselves with smoke.
They  ripped open their veins
and filled themselves with poison.
They grew sickly and cold
with black, sunken eyes.
They starved themselves to the bone
until that was all they were.
Feet shuffled against dark-stained hardwood floors,
yet they never touched the ground.

Ghosts.
Ghosts who couldn't sleep,
for the darkness was no longer home.
Ghosts who couldn't breathe,
for all they inhaled was smoke.
Ghosts who screamed.
Ghosts who cried.
Ghosts who never made a sound.

Holding on until fingers grew limp.
This house was empty
long before it was gone.

you said
it doesn't matter anyway
it never did

you said
it didn't matter
if it was a week, a month, or a year
we wouldn't be forever anyway

you once said
you loved me
on a cold and dark night like this

you said  
it didn't matter

but baby
it matters *to me