Hello, hello,
you sweet little child.
Hello, hello,
you innocent soul.

Can you see me cry?
Can you see the demons
reflected in my eyes?
Can you see the scars
inscribed on my skin?
Can you see through my mask,
so feeble, so terribly thin?
Can you see it peeling off,
can you see me rotting?

Hello, hello,
you sweet little child.
Hello, hello,
you innocent soul.

Are you afraid?
Are you scared of the
big bad scarred monster
on your doorstep?

My scars relinquishing in
sunlight,
the devils inside me
caught in a ****** war,
the pain that's decaying
my organs, my soul,
my body crumbling
like pastries to dust,
my tormented existence,
my struggle through life.
Gnawed at by self-hatred,
praised by self-harm,
thriving in blades,
awash with blood...

Can you see this?
Can you hear them?

Can you hear the voices
roaring in my head,
screaming, yelling,
howling
sweet little
"disgusting"s
"failure"s
"****"s
"good-for-nothing"s
"nobo­dy-needs-you"s
"ugly"s
"fat"s
"stupid"s
"pathetic"s
"you're better off dead"
?

Can you hear
the cry of my veins?
Can you hear my blood
begging for release?
Can you hear
my gut-wrenching
cries for help?
Can you hear my screams?

Can you see the figures
scrutinising me
deep inside my head?
Can you see the pain
bleeding down my
arms
and things?
Can you see me
ripping myself slowly
thread by ******* thread?

Hello, hello,
you sweet little child.
Hello, hello,
you innocent soul.

Can you recognise me?
Can you see yourself?

Don't stay, my sweet little girl,
don't stay,
run away,
my sweet little girl,
greetings from your
future self
on the path to decay.

I'm fat
I'm ugly
I just can't seem to do anything right
Why can't I look like her?
Why can't I get a guy or girl like him or her?
Why can't I be interesting?
Why can't I be happy?
Why can't I be normal?
Whatever that is
Will I ever be happy?

I want someone around, but I want to be alone at the same time
I want to cuddle up with someone, but I don't want to be touched

Why do I hate being touched?

It's weird
Touching someone
It feels weird
Especially when they touch me
I get aggravated when someone does that
      even angry sometimes

But then I think: who would love a girl who hates herself? How can anyone love a girl who hates herself?
Who would want a girl when she doesn't even want herself? How could they?

They can't

I don't know how to to love myself when all I've done was hate myself
I don't know how to accept myself when all I've been doing was trying to reject it

*How do you change yourself to look beautiful in your own eyes?

Craving interaction
Some sort of relationship
But never finding much
In this caricature of happiness

Lost but still searching
Considering the end
Yet never reaching finality
Without the needed confidence

Ragged cries of 'Help'
So scared, so lonely
Would give anything for a friend
Without the shallow ceremony

Please, help
Loss of common sense
People just aren't worth the effort
The fog of failure is so dense

Realizations in blue ink
Revelations written red
Hopes and dreams in yellow
Lay down and go to bed

Assumptions in bright orange
Bitter feelings written green
Colour scars these pages
Accented in screams

Vibrant hues straight from the vein
And onto the perception of reality
Force the depression down again
Let the façade run free

This isn't life at all
This isn't what should be
Colour scars these pages
The shades of insanity

Reaching out for help
And latching to an apparition
And
              Falling
                                Falling
  ­                                               Falling
                                                         ­          Fading from existence
                                                       ­           
                                                                ­   Hopeless desperation
                                                     ­              Quiet loneliness
                                                      ­             Stark disappointment
                                                  ­                 Life shouldn't be like this
                                                            ­        
                                                        ­           Whispers in the dark
                                                            ­       Of what the end could mean
                                                            ­       Careful consideration
                                                   ­                Let the colour bleed
                                                                ­  
                                                                ­   Hatred marked in violet
                                                          ­         Pain in large steaks of white
                                                           ­        Final blue-inked realizations
                                                    ­               Goodbye and goodnight

Dear Chaus,

Wishing upon that shooting star
For something more than what you are
Heartbreaking as you send your wish afar
But you'll never be more than simply subpar.

Calling out for a goal, an ambition
Reaching hard to make the distance
Running until you lose your vision
Then crashing when, again, you miss it.

Because all you are is a common entity
With not a single redeeming quality
All you are is a lackluster commodity
Thrown away once something better is seen.

Are you lonely yet, does the feeling invade your soul?
Are you lonely yet, now that you feel so old?
Are you lonely yet and has your optimism run cold?
Are you lonely yet, are you ready to go?

Does it crush you in that way that makes death seem sweet?
Does it rend you in the fashion that forces up what you eat?
Does it poison you like smoke that your lungs forever keep?
Does it drag you like nicotine, controlling your feet?

How do you do now, my dear, and those cuts on your arms?
How do you do now, my dear, with no father to bring you harm?
How do you fare, my dear, when all is at peace and warm?
How do you fare, my dear, with the paranoia, the alarm?

Is it too much or just enough, are you running to the end?
It is too good or too bad, will you shun those helping hands?
Is it too loud or too quiet, is love still in your plans?
Is it to nice or to cruel, now do you understand?

As all you'll ever be, you are ending in this moment
All you wish to see that you've smashed on the pavement.
All the time you had that your decisions use as payment.
All the people who've passed that you wished would have come with.

This is what is waiting for you in a year, a decade, a century
This is what is waiting and this is all you'll ever see
Disappointment by disappointment, never quite depression-free
This is what is waiting: anything but content or happy.

So next you feel the call of some obscure way to die
I bid you take the chance, let not another chance pass by
The next you feel fed up and you can only think to cry
Put down your tears and dance and kiss this cruel world goodbye.

Love,
Chaus

Chronically
Ironically
It seems to be
All fallacies
Of things to be
That I'll never get the chance to see.

Jive and jeer
Laugh and sneer
A cough, a wheeze
Laughing at me
And all my pleas
I know in truth I'll never be free

But to clarify, don't let vague by, description of the fallen
Every molecule I'm made of has an infection, a problem.

Is it in my brain, I wonder?
Because even I'm afraid to check.
You've seen my anger, my fury
And my graphic imaginings of death.
And the jealousy that festers
And the perversions that I flaunt
And the lengths I would go
Simply to get what I want.

I've spoken of Misophonia
(God, I hate my ears)
I've explained how every sound
Causes abject anger or fear.
I've talked of how my brain
Just doesn't understand
A single 'trigger' noise and
I've either screamed or ran.

I've discussed my depression
I've described why and how I cut
I explained that my Heart wants blood
Though my Brain screams 'Enough'
I've mentioned my memory lapses
That are no longer quite selective
How the line of my memories aren't
Sequential; aren't consecutive.

I've written and erased just how lonely I am
I've written of tears through tears
I've written of hurt and of love
And even hope, or maybe fear.
I've written my family whom I hate to love
I've written my desire to be owned and kept
I've written my straying from beliefs and religion
I've written ****-themes of what has and hasn't happened yet

I've written my thoughts: why was my life like this?
I've written my thoughts: can I be someone else?
I've written my thoughts: can you change my colour?
I've written my thoughts: why wasn't I born male?
I've typed my heart: someone somewhere is gonna love you.
I've typed my soul: no one needs to see it.
I've typed my mind: you're useless, ugly, crass
I've typed the facts: I'm a *******.

And that's only a fraction of my brain.
Only a portion of what hurts.
That's only a taste of what makes me insane.
A glimpse of a wasteland of dust and dirt.
We'll go no farther there, not today
We've much more to explore.
It's not safe in my brain at all
But, perhaps later, we'll see more.

Now the problem could lie on my skin.
That's riddled with scars and life.
My skin that tells a story
Of pain, of hate, of strife.
My skin, god I always hated it
The color, the scarring, the texture
There's not a **** thing about it
That doesn't make me feel lesser.

My skin, you don't understand
My skin makes me, me.
My skin, you don't comprehend!
Color is all you see.
I was raised to be wary
Of everything, alive or dead
But skin was the selling point
I was the monster under my bed.

My skin explains stories
I never thought to tell
My skin holds trauma
In every atom, every cell
My skin is calloused
From scars and hurt and work
Like an ever-present melody
It's driving me berserk.

But the problem may be in my organs
Perhaps inside my lungs.
I remember at thirteen I felt trauma
And almost picked up and fired a gun.
But instead I chose a lighter and
A stick filled with cancer
Instead I ****** up my voice
Just so I wouldn't remember.

Maybe it's in my heart
With its irregular beating
And the constant stress
Chilling and overheating.
The unending adrenaline
The paranoia never stops
The suicide attempts
I'm sure my heart's about to pop.

And yet I may never know
There's too many issues
Every molecule I own
Needs to be made anew.
This was a checkup
And a shoddy one at best
But should I ever go in-depth
I'll write it all, I'll write the rest.

This isn't what you wished
Upon that small baby
This isn't what you wished

This isn't the head you kissed
The head of that baby
This isn't what you kissed

This isn't what you held
The weight of that baby
This isn't what you held

This isn't what you smelled
The scent of that baby
This isn't what you smelled

This isn't what you felt
Felt for that baby
This isn't what you felt.

This isn't how it was supposed to be
This isn't what you imagined
This isn't what you meant me to see
The isn't what you'd bargained

This isn't the life you choose to live
This isn't the trust you chose to give
This isn't the love you once entrusted
This isn't the marriage to which you'd come in

This isn't the daughter you once knew
This isn't the love you walked into
This isn't the hope you'd had before
This isn't the love in fairytale's lore

This isn't at all what you expected
This isn't at all what you should have collected
This isn't the right end for an angel
This isn't, as it seems, quite so fatal

But this is me
Imperfect glory
Oh, this is me
With a sad, sad story

This is me
Timeless and dying
This is me
The blood I'm crying

This is me
The failure's jive
This is me
The end of a life

This is me
On sanity's cliff
This is me
Ready to drift

This is me
Desperate and wanting
This is me
Pretending and flaunting

Yes, this is me
Your youngest daughter
And it's not at all what you wanted
My dearest mother

This is me
The smoke, the pain
This is me
For loss, for gain

This is me
This is that baby
This is me
Now a young lady

This is me
Looking for love
This is me
Small and starstruck

This is me
On the wrong path
This is me
Treading on broken glass

This is me
Begging for help
This is me
****** to hell

This is me
Waiting to be saved
This is me
Turning away

This is me
Nearing Death's door
This is me
Saying I can take no more

This is me
With smoke in my lungs
This is me
Absorbing the sun

This is me
With knife in hand
This is me
Enjoying the land

This is me
Pleasing those men
This is me
Washing my hands

And this isn't what you wanted
And this is why you cry
And this isn't what I expected
And this is why I wish to die

Oh, this is why my mind is unclean
This is why you weep
This is why we couldn't foresee
And this is why I can't sleep

This is why the night is frightening
This is the absence of hope
Yet this is why we live
And this is why we cope

And this isn't life
This is unidentified
And this isn't strife
This is why we live and die

Maybe this is a maybe
Maybe this is uncertainty
Maybe this is a per say
Maybe this is you, is me

Yes, maybe this is human
Though this is inhumane
Maybe this is *******
And cannot be contained

Maybe maybe is uncertainty
Maybe maybe is insanity
Maybe maybe is a waste of hope
Maybe maybe is the knife at our throats

This is me
With a ring on my finger
This is me
With a kiss on my lips

This is me
With a love that lingers
This is me
With a sway to my hips

This is my reflection
So pretty, so ugly
This is my reflection
So imperfect, so me

This is life
Tiring and refreshing
This is time
A burden unrelenting

These are my friends
My children, my life
These are my friends
So perfect, so right

And this is pain
And this is gain
And this is love
And this is hate
And this is trust
And this is my place

But first
Foremost

This is me.