I finally found my way out
No more blades, just tears
And before I know it
red slips down my arms again

An insatiable need
Now I write, go insane
because if i give in to that urge
that itch
I'd let everyone down
a disappointment

but all I really want to do is feel the blade dancing around me again

Look at me, say your sorry
next thing I know its over
Pity like a dagger wrapped like a gift
soft words, sharp lies

You ask why I bleed let the red run me over
Why drawings line up my wrists
In blood red
Then you turn around and say things
Like you forgot I ever told you

I hate you but I cant hate you
I love you because you love me
sometimes I just wish you'd hate me
so i'd be free
so i'd be allowed to hate you
without guilt

I don't know who I'm writing this to
maybe just someone out there
dragging themselves out of bed each morning
not quite ready to face the world
but too tired to stand the loneliness of the night no longer

Maybe you're miles, years, even livesaway
maybe you'll read this one day
and it won't feel so heavy
maybe I will too

until that day
cheers to whoever this finds
heres to a day where it ain't all so lonely

Just wait it out
Wait until the fire burnt out
but you might just get singed by it
might just be engulfed in flames

Used to cry when I was little
used to feel so much pain
It was hard to hide it, hard to pretend
so i'd just cry on and on
Fight fire with fire maybe some water

Now though I just sit there
Wait till the fire burns over
Until it burns out
I've gotten so good at pretending I'm okay
I've even convinced myself

Before I thought one day I'd wake up in bed
Happy with no problems
Peace lying right next to me
no more worries, no more weight
that was what I thought healing was

The older I get I feel like thats not it not even close
Healing isn't a place, a destination
Its a journey, a rhythm, an acceptance

Healing or at least what I think it is
is being okay with having the bad days
not letting them eat you up

Its not about perfect mornings
its about getting up each day
not forgetting what happened the last
but just accepting
but who knows maybe that'll change

They chart my thoughts
Writing in the margins
Label me unstable
Calm hands, cold and cynical

White coats, dead eyes
Dissecting not with blades
But questions that cut deeper
Deeper than my blades could

I am but a test subject
Observed, not understood
Answers become symptoms
Insane at the very least
Driven to the brink of psychosis

Taking notes just a job
I am studied
Just a case in a folder
Patients not people
Not even human

Joints… aching like rusted hinges
Hair… slipping away like autumn leaves
Memory…flaking off like the old paint that covered my walls
Fatigue… like a tide that never recedes

I feel as if
I've carried centuries in a single skin
Lived lives I can’t remember
But still feel in my marrow

And yet
I’m nowhere near the halfway mark

The same clock hands, circling
Almost in slow motion
Same dull rhythmic beating
Routine wears like sandpaper
Smoothing the edges
As the years blur and blow away