She stood on the bridge
In silence and fear
For the demons of darkness
Had driven her here

They cut her heart
Right out of her chest
Making her believe
That the demons knew best

They were always there
Sometimes just out of sight
Waiting in the background
Till the time was right

These demons were destructive
Knocking down the life she knew
Hating everything about her
She hated herself too

These demons can't be seen
But they're far from fairy tales
They live inside your mind
Their evilness prevails

So on the bridge she stood
About to end the fight
Then she stopped and thought
I'll fight them one more night

Standing on the sidewalk
Hearing all the back talk
Watching while they cakewalk
Wonderin’ how I got here.

Step behind the bar table
Fool yourself if you are able
Tell yourself this ain’t no stable
And them ain’t dumb animals.

Start a conversation
End it in frustration
Why the aggravation
You know ******* can’t talk.

Turn into a pill head
Drop ‘em til you see red
Wish that you could be dead
Or anywhere but here.
                   <<>>

This bed is like a coffin
With a burial each night.
I could tell you where
it all went wrong
But it wouldn't make it right.
I'm never worth
Remembering
You each showed me that.
With your pretentious self obsession
Words that always fell flat.
Each day is long and empty.
I cannot find my way,
So forgive me
Graciously
While I slowly fade away.

I approach most desires
like a competition; can I
**** better than him;
can I be famous at twenty-
-three since he was famous at
twenty-four -- I must be able
to sink better than him.

God, it is exhausting. I
feel like I'm dancing with
a machine; a phantom that
I can never catch, for it runs
on my blood; my insecurities;
my passion -- and, boy, oh boy,
can I attest to having plenty of
  that stuff, ladies and germs.

I think, truly, that I am
encompassing the American Dream
I think is utterly flawed; that I think
is futile in nature; that I am sure of
is the closest thing to Hell, in this
Godless, spiritually motherless
dark shoebox of sudden collisions;
this space of useful and useless
results, splayed onto and into
our hearts, asking for reverence.

There is nothing  I want more
than to be sure that my importance
is not illusory. I am not sure if
I am real.

They said they had to **** my dreams
because I didn't have enough zeroes.
In other words, Mr. Doe, you were
                     lied to by your heroes;
money isn't everything,
but not having it is being invisible.
You can work sixty hour weeks,
but only earn ways to be miserable.

My parents paying four-fifty, monthly
-- which is not a lot of money; we had
to eat out of cans and delude ourselves
into thinking it was funny. Sorry, Does;
                              sorry for your woes --
but America is the big hunter, and your
                            death is how it grows.

We were not equal; no account because
                   we had no account. Asked by
our family members if we bought junk
                      in a large amount. I'm sorry
to disappoint myself -- but I
                                         cannot afford
                                                   to lose.
I am the result of a flawed America
                                     that has learned
                                                to abuse.

Lily white beauty
Intoxicating
Dressed to the nines
Alas
A wolf in sheep's clothing