Sunday afternoon
Newspaper in my hand
Thirty recent local deaths
How long until I'm on this page?
How long until I waste away?
There's been so many nights
That I thought were my last
There's been so many tears
And so many laughs
I fold up the newspaper
And take a sip from my mug
Why spend my life
Wondering how much time
I have left?

It hurts
Once you're completely down
From the high
Once you've ran out of whiskey
When all those wonderful colors and thoughts
Disappear
And you wake up in your bed
The same clothes you had on
Four days ago
And you realize
That your demons still follow you around
You just didn't notice them
For the past few days
Because instead of fearing them
You gave into them
And it wasn't scary
It was bliss

When I was young
My mother would find
Creative ways to write back
To my letters to Santa

I didn't know it was her
Because when I went to bed
The cookies and milk were not touched
The carrot for the reindeer was still sitting there

When I was young
I believed that there were things
In this world that were not
Explainable
That there was some kind of
Magic

Around the age of 7
My friends started to tell me
That there is no Santa
That this was all a hoax
I believed them

I asked mother about it
She told me the truth

Suddenly
All the magic
That I ever believed in
Had disappeared

I realized
That life was not
Full of magic
Or beauty
But instead
Full of people
Always needing an explanation
For every thing

People on this dreaded planet
Have taken away
All senses of hope
And all the magic
That ever existed
(Did it ever exist?)

This is not a dream
I am here
I exist
If I scream, people will help
My heart is beating
My soul has not withered away
Nothing is fine
But I'll be okay

It's a constant battle
That's been going on
For years now
And to put it simply
I'm dying

My insides are beginning
To shrivel and weep
My soul is no longer
Alive
Even my once glimmering eyes
Have gone grey
With hatred

It's a lot easier
To just give up
Because everyone knows
That this illness
Will take your life
At some point

Two years
Two ******* years
Crying-
Drowning in self pity

I am no longer
Willing to let the
Walls close in
Or to speak
To the ghosts

I have found
The sun
And it's bright
Oh it's brilliant

I do not fear
The unknown
Nor fear for hurting
Myself

I spent two years
Crying over myself
Crying because
The "right" people
Didn't care

But really
Who are the
"Right" people?

I was lost at sea
For so **** long
And I have the scars
To prove it

But I swam
To the shore
And laid on the
Beach
And found myself again
In the swaying
Of the waves