I keep our memories as secrets from others but mostly importantly from myself.

when i was young
i tried to rewrite history
because i could not stand
to bear it all on shaky knees

i burned the old pages
drew a big x
through any future
i could foresee

the embers, they fell
snowflakes gracing
torched ground
and i ached to flee

to a place
that could hurt me not
i desperately rewrote the history
but in safety, i became the enemy

On days where your bones are heavy
and your hands stay cold,

On days where your brain is overcrowded static
and your heart is sand and dust,

Remember that there is a warm bed
to welcome you home,
and music to soothe the unplaceable ache.

Depression is a darkness that creeps up behind you.
You never expect its presence,
Not until it taps you on the shoulder.
It wraps you in its clutches,
Making darkness creep in from all sides.
Soon you are lost.
You cannot see your surroundings.
You are consumed with fear and sadness.
Suddenly you are drowning.
You are pulled under the water,
No matter how hard you fight to stay above the surface.
You pour your energy into your strength so you do not drown,
But it eats away at you.
You cannot keep fighting.
Your brain tells you to give up.
Your body is exhausted.
There is no hope.
You close your eyes and stop fighting,
You feel yourself falling deeper into the water's depths.
The darkness swallows you up,
And your pain goes away.

Art is my escape
The place I dare to dream,
Depositing frustrations
That make me want to scream;
Tying up the loose ends
Of mental threads about to snap
Seeking peaceful solitude
From a world that's full of crap.
Sometimes, pen and paper
Are the only things I trust,
When all around me shatters,
And turns to empty dust.
Here among the soft lights
Of lamp, and desk, and ink
I give into emotion
So I do not have to think.

It's that time again,
between sunset and the dawn.
That time when I pace across
this city of goodbyes.
Songs of sadness
in my head.
Letting this weight on my shoulders
sink to the soles
of my feet
passing to earth
behind me,
so that once I return
I can pretend
till it's dusk again.

I have a tendency to romanticise,
A habit of hoping.
Jumping to conclusions in my mind,
Maybe it's a way of coping.

It's caused a few issues,
Assumptions tend to do so.
But my mind won't give up that easily,
It sure doesn’t like hearing, 'no.'

So I may as well embrace it,
After all, what's so bad about hope?
Maybe that’s what we all need,
Maybe that’s a good way to cope.

Ana

I had a bad week
So at the end, I let out a ****** shriek
And drank all the feelings away
I had a bad week and at the end, all I could help but think
Was the all stupid ways we cope with life’s never ever creek