I am surrounded by stars
But even in
Their blinding radiance
They cast only
Shadows

this is not some love story
a boy will not come and save you and he will not kiss the scars on your thighs.

this is not a movie
someone isn't going to save you from your demons,
or think your illness and addiction is beautiful.

this is not a fairytale
you will not save yourself from the voices,
or the jabbing pain in your stomach
or the shaking of your body for that quick release.

this is real life
and nothing will save you except for the pills that the doctors put you on that helps you with your mood swings, and unwillingness to get out if bed every morning.  

this is not poetry.

self harm scars are not lovely.
sadness is not beautiful.
and demons are not glorious.
stop trying to make mental illness a great thing to have.
so if you glorify self harm and sadness, stop being a ******* ******* because it isn't ******* beautiful.

nothing is beautiful about voices in your mind that tell you to take a blade to your skin, and nothing is beautiful about morning rolling around and you contemplate being "sick", or jumping out into traffic just in time to get hit by a bus just so you can escape life.
this is not beautiful.

Hunting in the recess of one’s mind
Combing through the shelves and drawers
Looking for some truth to be found
Searching behind hidden doors.

Delving, waiting, and then what is to be
My mind cannot take any more
Piles of ******* useless information stored
Like piles of unwashed laundry on the floor.

Found the information that I need
Scanned and then do I trust what is there.
Shove it where I found it once again
At this precise moment I don’t think I care.