I bite.
Not with teeth.
with silence,
with sharp glances,
with walls built higher than your reach.

I’m not cruel.
I’m just tired
of being kind first
and torn apart second.

You call it attitude.
I call it armor.
Because being soft
never saved me.
It only made the fall hurt more.

So I speak less now.
Agree less.
Trust less.
I pull away before someone has the chance
to walk out first.

It’s not that I don’t want love.
I’ve learned that even “I care about you”
can come with conditions.
Even soft hands
can leave bruises
you can’t see.

I bite
because once,
I didn’t.
And it nearly broke me.

You'd think I'd learned my lesson,

So many years ago,

To never add anything new,

I've never let anything go.

poured myself a drink
what about me?
you can pour me the
next one  ..

angrily get out of bed
saying you’ve had enough!
which for me was a first

went into the second hand bookshop
I said hi, what’s new?

I slit my wrist to erase the pain.
you look at me and think I'm insane.
My eyes turn red, bleeding my tears,
and still you try to protect me from my worst fears.
Look at my scars, then you will see
why I can't seem to go around and fake happy,
yet you tell me you love me, that you'll forget,
for I'll soon be gone, and I'll be your greatest regret.
So let me die, broken and scarred,
I can't deal with life, it's getting far too hard.
Everything's gone wrong; it's not worth trying,
so leave me alone because I feel like I'm dying.
I don't want you to worry,
because my life is ending in a hurry.
I'll be fine and happy, you see,
for death is what I wished for and soon it will be.