do you ever tell your parent that what if you can't do it and all they say is "I know you will". No mum. What if I can't ?  what if I disappointed you? what about my guilt? where do I keep this feeling? why is it so heavy? what if i fail? what then? will you still think of me as your brightest kid? will you still use me as an example for my siblings? will i be an example? what if i couldn't be that intelligent always making you proud kid? what if i fail mum? why is this feeling so heavy? where do I keep it mum? What if i fail?

I’m so tired.
But I need to be better.
If I am not,
What is the point of doing?

“Post a time when you were at your lowest but no one noticed”
But the thing is when I was at my lowest, I never hid it, at least not in the long run
I let the blood from my struggles pour from my eyes,
It runs down my arms in vein-like trails and seeps into the creases of my palms
It runs down my fingers, filling the whorls and arches of my prints
Every touch contaminates and floods
I spread it on the surfaces, smearing and painting with red: startling like a cardinal in snow and thicker than wine
At times I regret being so open, thinking I should just keep things to myself
But that would be to go against my nature
To go against my deep desire for those I love to know every single intimate part of me;
To see me at my weakest.
Maybe it’s because there aren’t any secrets then
It’s just me showing the world that when im strong, im strong,
And when I’m weak, I’m weak.
I suppose I don’t feel the need to hide how I'm feeling or what I am going through.
To hide it would be far too much work
And I don’t have the energy to hide.

Feet so heavy, let's stay grounded today
Sheets so white and crisp where they lay

These hands are so twisted as they move to fold
Cracked and dry making the linen go crimson in their hold

We messed up the work with our blood
Go to reload the machine but alas, a flood!

Open up the exit, pushing the filthy water out with a broom
Sweat, blood, and bile pile up in the concrete room

Goodness! Our feet are no longer grounded
They are embedded into the floor as if they had been pounded

I thought to leave soon before my life fades away
The corporate world is hard to exit, and offers little pay

I’m a total mess and need a shower
I have a meeting in less than an hour
There’s no hot water – we have no power
Should I **** it up and take one now, or
Call in sick to work?

I like being busy
There's no surprise in that,
It's the only way to survive and make the voices quiet that argue in my head.
I like being busy
It's the only way I've known,
To burry down those feelings
That keep on surfacing on their own.
I like being busy
I enjoy being burnt out
Because that's how I muffle the agony from the bleeding cut.
I don't want a moment of silence
Because that's when
The voices in my head are
The loudest.
They Mourne, they agonize, they miss,
They sympathize.
And then all I have is this burning feeling which is
The darkest.

He wore crooked windows
Beside morning coffee
And her spilled milk