Somebody told me I could fly.
I believed them.
Somebody told me I was worth it.
I believed them.
Somebody told me I had a purpose.
I believed them.
Somebody told me I was beautiful.
I believed them.
Somebody told me I was loved.
I believed them.

Or so I told them.
Because the demons in our HEADS never shut up.
They never rest, so in turn, neither do we.
They draw out their ugly claws.
You feel them dig deep into your skin, locking into place.
They see you as their first love.
The kind of love no one ever forgets.
And they SCREAM.
Ear piercing screams driving straight down into your SOUL.
And silence...
Then...
Someone tells you you can fly.
"You'll fall."
Someone tells you you're worthy.
"You're worthless."
Someone tells you you have a purpose.
"You're useless."
Someone tells you you're beautiful
"You're uglier than us."
Someone tells you You're loved.
"By the darkness lurking in your head. Grab the knife, honey."

I understand what I used to be
I understand I used to glow and laugh and smile
Everyone loved that
I was carefree
Feeling like honey bathed in sweet, warm sunshine

And now...
Not even a stalker can pinpoint
                                                         where
                                                                          it
                                                                                  went
                                                                                             downhill
But telling a drowning person they used to be on land doesn't save them.

Sharp heat sears through the layers of my skin.
White hot and blinding, leaving an echo in the room I once called my home.

Then follows the deafening silence.
Enveloping the shell of what was once a free and happy child.
What is now empty and lifeless.

Because you can hit her.
She's your punching bag.
The kind that won't swing back.
So, go on. Do it again.

And kiss it better just to shatter it again.

Eyes like diamonds
Deep and beautiful
Capturing my soul.
If a siren's voice were a tangible creation,
it would be her eyes.
Like a void.

I would leap in without a second thought.

It was real.
I can feel it.
Like fingers wrapping
Around my wrist.
Wispy and delicate...
Or rough and jagged?

You tell me it never happened.
But why is my pillow stained with my tears?

Because I know my tears were real.
But to you...
They were just phantom tears.

I don't know either.
Maybe I am drifting
Maybe I did something wrong
Maybe I'm losing my mind,
my sanity, my worth, my sense.
Or maybe I opened my eyes
And saw the thorns on your roses
through bleeding eyes.