It’s your birthday today.
Every year this day is a bad day for me.
I think about you and your green eyes, and the pain you’ve caused me.
But I always end up breaking down and texting you.
I always tell you Happy Birthday,
I always make sure you’re okay and having a good day, it’s your birthday after all.
But you never remembered mine.
Every single birthday of yours since I was in 6th grade I’ve been here.
Doing my best for you.
I wanted to give you the world.
Even when it almost killed me.
Even though you only pretended to care about me.
This is the day I let myself get wasted,
I let myself slip back into old addictions just for a night, so maybe I could forget what day it is.
Not only is it the day you were born, it’s the day I lost Flower.
I know you told me to get over it, and I know you’ll never understand.
But March 23rd is one of the worst days of my life.

Feeling the fear, of feeling alone
I turn to liquid in crystal stone.
I pour the acid into my cup.
And pray to God that I have enough.

Alone again, freezing as my body burns,
Seeking the devil for which I yearn.
I swallow the ghost, haunting my mind;
And breath new life through dilated eyes.

Holding on to a crescent moon,
Called into life by my blackened spoon.
I feel the demon, his needle fangs,
Inject himself in my flowing veins.

Higher now than ever before,
She knows just what her body's for,
Feigning love, for just one night.
I'm still alone; but for now I feel alright.

I use substances
To plan an escape
To run away
With not even moving

Turn off my mind
My brain gets loud
All the wrongs I have done
All the times I was let down

I feel everything, and everything and everything

I leave these emotions, these pieces of my history
       Safe

Hidden behind, humour, hidden behind, lust, hidden behind, trust

I feel everything

And most of the time I want it to stop
And I fill up that cup
Take one more shot
Because everything I got

Reminds me of what I am not

Don't tell me you know who he really is in all his madness
until you know the ways he tried to **** his sadness.
Until you know of the blood running like a river down his thighs
from the gaping wounds he makes all the while he cries,
until you see the crimson waterfalls rushing from the veins on his wrist,
as he tries his best to succeed at ceasing to exist.

Don't tell me you know him until you know how he spends every waking moment at war with his mind,
guided by the black dog incredibly prominent; the same darkness that has him so confined.
Until you're aware of his tendency to seek amnesia at the bottom of endless bottles of whiskey,
until you understand that this crisis leads his behaviour to become most risky.

Don't tell me you know him until you know of how he starves himself and strives for perfection,
because tormentors told him that he's not good, thin or man enough - so it's all he sees in his reflection.
Until you've seen him punching holes in the walls wanting the pain to cease,
until you've seen him popping hundreds of pills hoping from an escape from the world, looking for release.

So don't tell me you know who he really is in all his madness
until you know the ways he tried to **** his sadness,
you only see the parts he wants you to see -
you cannot understand he's broken into merely debris.

You sit on the holy hollow thrown in my body.
Calling for salvation, claiming camaraderie

The internal tick I tend to mend,
sits on my chest, sinks into my irises.

A sip, a snort, a huff whisper safe promises.

You are the thumb I **** singing lullabies to sleeping peace,
the knife I carry down dark streets.

You are the doctor I call when I break my arm,
the scarf I wear in winter storms.

But too,

You are the *** hole in main streets,
and a broken belt in the drivers seat,
the sour milk in my fridge when I make English tea.
You've put salt in my sugar.

You are the feet that fall asleep in a moment of danger.

You are a beautiful thought waiting to unfold on black paper.

You sit on the holy hollow thrown in my body.
Commanding toxic tensions, comforting ill redemptions.

But

The kingdom we live in is drinking resilience,
mind stepping back into its brilliance.

You still sit on the holy thrown in my body.
But I too fight for survival
and you still dable with devils.

But the battles I face are no longer hollow,
and sometimes I miss the comfort of denial.

It takes many reasons to recover but one to relapse.