I cannot fall asleep.

The monsters in my head,
won't stop screaming.

They scream for
sweet release.

The feeling of cool sharp metal
against my warm wrist.

The dark red color of my blood.

I yell and scream for them to stop.

But they do not listen.

I comfort them in the only way I can,
without breaking the promise I made.

I imagine slitting my wrists,
the dark, dark red slipping from them.
Then laying down on the cold tile,
and drifting away.
Never waking.

I weep as they smile,
finally at peace.

I made a promise I intended to keep,
but I don't think I can any longer.

As they sleep,

I slip off into the dark
to find that silver blade
and cut my skin.

They're winning.

So many people are living lives that they're not in love with, && I've just never quite understood that.

How much exactly
did it cost to sell your soul?
At what point did you decide,
"this is now my life until I'm old"

The truth is we're all invincible,
until the day we're not
We've got to live our lives to the fullest,
for it's only one that we've got

To go about our days,
meandering in the mundane
Is surefire the best way,
to drive ourselves insane

We're meant to be free thinkers;
artists, writers, && musicians
Making the world a better place
should be our only aim && mission

Be kind to one another
We're all in this together
It's funny how the things that divide us
Are also the same ones that tether

Us to this forsaken planet
Feeling like we're broken
When at any given moment
Kind words can be spoken

Falling from our lips
&& lifting others' hearts
We all have the capacity to make a difference
It's just a matter of choosing to start

In the evening I will open a store
that sells shadows, to compliment the dying
of the day.

My first customer will be a man who
drowns himself in holy water, who buys his
dreams secondhand.

Dream analysis is useless on this one,
the metaphors are cheap and only relevant
to their original owners.

Instead of swallowing magic he will swallow
his own fears, he buys a shadow that will hide
his form completely, he stands in the center of the
stage, and with a flash and a bang he disappears.

i wish people still wrote letters,

i wish we still penned down our thoughts,
so that your tear stains could guide me to your heart
and the coffee or wine stains to those sleepless nights

so that the scent of the sheet could tell me
what perfume was your new favourite
and your lazy handwriting showed how tired you were

theres so much more of you on paper,
and theres so much of you i miss.

I have been told multiple times that I talk about my mental health issues way too much. I have been accused of sharing my story to gain attention. I have been accused of using my past as a way to get people to feel sorry for me. However, that could not be further from the truth. I talk about my mental health issues openly because I know what it's like to be alone and suffer in silence. I do it for the ones who are struggling and who do not have a voice out of fear of being told to shut up. I am not the one that needs attention. The topic of mental health issues are what needs attention. I do not need anyone feeling sorry for me. I don't feel sorry for me. Everyone goes through some kind of hell in their lives  and my battle with mental health is my hell. The ones who complain about me speaking out are always the ones who get off on telling people to be quiet. They are the kind of people who are ignorant and are so quick to judge issues they know nothing about. I refuse to be silenced. I refuse to let others who are in my shoes to be silenced. I refuse to let negative people get to me. I spent so long living in silence as well as many others trying to cover up the mental health issues in our world today because it makes people uncomfortable. It's time to speak up. It's time to be educated on these issues. It's time to make a difference so we can save more lives.

I'm too tired and too weak
From carrying all these worries
About things that may go wrong
Or things that never happened at all
I only have the will to take steady steps
Because my conquered failures hold me up

I'm too tired and too weak
I've lost my will to even breathe
Due to all the useless talking I do
And the inhaling of nothing I retain
I only now have the will to exhale
All the sweet moans I've swallowed whole

I'm too tired and too weak
To find the will to live the mundane
And excite flames from ashes as before
Or feed from the dull light in the dark
I only now continue this tired heartbeat
Because someone out there is feeding it life