I’m a tornado in a bottle but you
Grasp my glass cage and you
𝘚𝘏𝘈𝘒𝘌 𝘚𝘏𝘈𝘒𝘌 𝘚𝘏𝘈𝘒𝘌
You take me by the (bottle) neck and you
Toss me flying in the air and catch
Me again, flirting with death like life
Is a game, and I’m telling you—
I’m telling you—
𝘚𝘛𝘖𝘗 𝘐𝘛, 𝘚𝘛𝘖𝘗 𝘐𝘛, 𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘕—

shattered glass bloodstains
no tears but shock freezing the lines
on your face pick up the pieces
no don’t let it cut your fingers.
sorry. sorry.
sorry. sorry. sorry.

The teeth are brittle and break away.
Blood spills and leaves me…
Alone. It’s been getting worse since May.
Flowers that used to give me color, just remind me of Gray. The sea can’t grow,
no co-sign for my loans,
and tangents never helped me anyway.
The question of “Why?”, equaled ex’s that got eliminated, division from dimensions, so nothing Remains. I can’t integrate happiness into dysfunction, but my voices want to play. They’re constant and fill me with dismay. Help is so far away, it’s just another sign of my exponential decay.

He keeps feeling broken day by day.
This life isn’t a game but us demons keep giving him the play-by-play. The thoughts never go, they stay, drowning his stupid *** again and again until night turns day.
Pills and people are needed but unable to change his way. “Is it possible to substitute U?” He wasn’t needed anyway. He’s so ******* annoying, just call him Billie Kay. What’s the going price of a casket in this age and day? No one will notice him gone,
they couldn’t even say his name.
He appears most likely in Hell, it’s a praise day.
Nah we won’t even hurt him, he ain’t worth the flame.
Bit by bit he’s already done, with so much exponential decay.

I’m sorry. Two simple words that speak measures about the things I didn’t say.

Dad.
I’m sorry that I couldn’t have been a better person.
I couldn’t always keep my room clean or keep my grades high.
I wasn’t always the easiest person to talk to or even understand.
I didn’t make life for you easier, and for that: I’m sorry.

Brother.
I’m sorry I said words I didn’t mean and didn’t fully understand how much they affected you.
I rejected your forms of affection and care because I thought I didn’t deserve them.
I pointed fingers and made empty promises without justification.
I spoke to you bitterly and harshly, and for that: I’m sorry.

Mom.
I’m sorry. To you the most, I’m sorry.
I wasn’t the daughter you wanted me to be.
I turned my back on your advice and guidance.
We often fought over views that didn’t align.
We were two opposites, but unlike magnets, I didn’t fight to make us connect.
And for that: I’m sorry.

To all those I have hurt:
I’m sorry.
I wasn’t the person you needed me to be.
I couldn’t be more, even when I wanted to.
But I hope you know I loved you,
in all the ways I knew how,
even if it wasn’t enough.

My heart goes to the people out their,
                                                            who write their pain on their skin.
This goes out to the addicts,
                                                 The people who starve to be pretty.
This goes out to the victims,
                                                 Who need to hear that it isn't their fault it never was and never will be.

I write my pain on my body,
                                               Reopen the scars of the past,
                              It hurts to think, breath, write, wake up.
                                       Why does it hurt??
           Please god make it stop,
I'm begging you
                            I can grind the glass to my face erase my eyes,
                                        Eat the glass and disappear from the inside,
                                                    But,
­It all feels like home,
                                   Cutting is,
My security blanket,
                                   And their trying to, take it away from me.
                                    Their sending me away.
          Why?
I need to cut myself they can't take it from me.
               I NEED it.

The day you died you took my soul with you.
You are Gentle as the mornings sunshine,
I Know my soul is with you
and I want YOU to come back.
I pass by your grave
and talk with the dead.
Every time I remember that you are there, my heart shrinks deeper than the ocean's- end.
I go to your room, everything is still there like you are coming back.
Death is strange,
I can feel your soul but your body,
it will never come back.
The grief eats me up alive,
Death is strange and my inner child cries.