Deep down I have a collection
I have a dozen bottles in it
Certain ones I keep in its own section
When it look through it takes a bit

Certain ones look so enticing
They pull me in certain ways
Some sweeter than cakes icing
Others bring on a familiar haze

In the back are the ones to avoid
Sadness, misery, and much more
The feelings of sitting in the void
And thoughts of who I’m living for

Don’t dare try and open one
If it opens they all explode
After that, what’s done is done
And my emotions take quite a load

I gather it all up once more
I’m used to it by now
Yet it still leaves me hurt and sore
Days like these I wonder how

My collection is so big
Maybe because I lock them away
I’d rather smoke this cig
What’s the harm of keeping it all in anyway

This monster called guilt, is eating me alive,
And I'm telling you this, so one day, when I've died,
You don't have sit there and wonder all the reasons why,
It's her, it's me, it's all the things I did hide,
Because of the shame and the regret,
And the things in between that I sat,
Upon for years that made me bleed,
Until I choked upon their ashes in my head,
And you all rationalized it away,
The rage and the self-hate,
But it all came down to, it all comes down to,
To a basement and carpet stains on the ground,

Someone help me end this living nightmare,
Where I'm haunted by a demon with golden hair,
She said to trust her and touch her there,
Well I did, and I did, now I hate her,
But not as much as I hate myself,
And no one can take away how I feel,

Sunshine shone in from that tiny window underground,
But all I could concentrate on was the sounds,
That came out of your filthy mouth,
And now I'm just on a one way train that's bound,
For hell, just like you, so eternity it is,
With the devil stuck in my head,
But I deserve no less for what I did,
They say it's cycle, yes, that's what they said,
But I'll never do it again,
But she, I'm sure, she did,
So who's worse or any better really in the end?
The one who learned their lesson, or the one who never did?

Someone help me end this living nightmare,
Where I'm haunted by a demon with golden hair,
She said to trust her and touch her there,
Well I did, and I did, now I hate her,
But not as much as I hate myself,
And no one can take away how I feel.

Back up and take a breath
Who are you pretending to be?
Someone who is loved by everyone when you cant even stand yourself
Your happiness matters and you are allowed to feel things
Go and cry
Don't be afraid and have to hide
You are human and no one has it worse than others
You are not selfish for wanting to cry for wanting to leave.
Let it all out

Back up and take a breath
You don't have to please everyone
Who only matters is yourself.
So go ahead and cry.
And say how you feel
Because no ones opinion matters.
No one else.

One thread came loose with alcoholism at a very young age.
She recovered. She forgot and proceeded.
One thread was yanked loose by a growing tendency to self sabotage.
She clawed her way out of the spiral.
One thread pulled at others when she learnt she didn’t need alcohol to have a good time.
She felt deprived by self-restraint. So she slightly caved.
One thread burned along with her personality when she became a stoner again.
She was suffocated yet high.
One thread was singed by ****.
She fell back into her ***** habits. She found herself here, but not quite present.
She became dependant. As she flooded her body parts with superficial happiness, just a quick release, her mouth grew dry. Then the peeling skin on her stained lips began to stick together and she regressed into a still and faded silence. In the end, she was in shreds and blissfully unaware, alone with nothing but one solitary thread left to grasp at.

I was little
The first time they called me that word consisting of six letters
For trivial mistakes
For being a disappointment
For asking for help
I am insecure
I tried, but they broke my confidence
I developed a fear of failure
I tried, but they broke my enthusiasm
And it left a permanent mark