As tears run down her face,
she realized she's made a mistake.
An utter suffocation,
she's trying to hold on.
But the pain,
the pain's to strong.
The bloods running down her wrist
Her eyes are going shut
but she's trying to hold on
while voices in her head are saying something is going wrong.
She doesn't know where she is or even why she did it.
It started with a razor and a few little cuts.
But became addictive and she cut to much.
Now she's laying on her bed,
wishing she could go back.
As the world disappears and everything goes black.

Some call it crazy
Some say it's sick
But I think it's freedom
The pain is fierce but quick
Some say that it's a sin
Just a little to risqué
But it helps release the pain
That I go through every day
The blade is sharp and cold
As it runs across my skin
Leaving me to ponder
And decide how deep I cut in
The icy chill running down my spine
Makes me feel at ease
I no longer feel like a coward
F**king up on everything with every breath I breathe
But some days I want to stop
Feeling like everything's wrong
Trying to let go of the blade
Sometimes I can but not for long
It's like I'm addicted to the pain
The feeling taking refuge in my veins
Leaving me feeling confused and alone
Wiping at the streaked tears that seem to be stained
Burned into my skin forever
Becoming a part that I cannot escape
Sometimes I just want to hurt all over
To scream at the top of my lungs until they break
I want to escape from my sadness
It's taking over me
Why can't I just rest
Why won't it let me be
I just want to be free

The entire city could be asleep
All cars gone, no longer speeding by
The ghosts of strangers in a hurry
The sound of night wind howling
All the little apartments still in the dark
A few drunken people stumbling here and there
And still, I would wait for you on the sidewalk.

Tonight I need something...
something more.
I need to dance in the starlight,
I need the stars to put the light back in my eyes.
I need the sky to clothe my bare skin,
giving warmth to my body yet showing
the deep blue in my green eyes.
I want the stars to help me fly again
giving flight to my reborn innocence
seeing the world only in the reflection
of the North Star to always be my compass.
It does not fall or fade
always burning bright just for me.
Tonight I see the stars in God's hand,
the Artist of my favorite Masterpiece.
I need the stars to give me just one more breath,
so I can feel...something.

It’s time for yet another session
To inform you about depression.
You may want to say “Just stop!”
Like a psychological traffic cop.
But as any of us who suffer say
“Pal, it just doesn’t work that way.”
This is not some social craze
And it certainly is not a phase.

It is something we suffer through
And you’re lucky if it isn’t you.
It’s worse than any story you read
To have a ***** fight in your head.
There are no praises you can sing.
Something is wrong with everything.
Even the sunniest day looks gray
And you can’t see it another way.

For many of us, it’s a long sad story,
And maybe cerebral instead of gory.
Something has made our life tough.
Maybe we were never good enough,
Or that was the way it all seemed
Before our dreams began to scream.
We can seldom remember back so far
To discover where lie the scars.

There are times when things go well,
But most times it’s a personal hell.
You can’t take joy in the normal things
That might make other’s heart sing.
You find that you have given up hope
You feel you are at the end of your rope.
Sadly, while you sit and pull your hair.
You see you have gotten used to despair.

I know some of you that don’t suffer
This illness want to help a brother
Or sister come beyond this trauma.
But you can’t label our pain as drama.
What you can do to lend a hand to us
Is to listen to us and not abandon us.
What often works is a true confessional
In the hands of a well-trained professional.

Glass wasn't made to shatter;
Paper wasn't made to tear.
Fragmentation is a side effect of carelessness, not of life–
Not of love.
A rose is not meant to be crushed, pulled apart petal by petal, simply because it is soft.
The doe, graceful and wide-eyed, was not created to die at the hands of a man indistinguishable from a snake in the grass.
The monarch does not flutter with lithe wings to be caught, classified, and pinned to a page,
Nor do the leaves change hue, turn crisp, and fall to be crushed beneath an entitled foot.
I do not paint my eyes so that you can watch me bleed black and gold down my cheeks,
Nor do I wear my heart on my sleeve so that you can rip it apart valve by valve.
I am not your window pane, nor your blank page; your willow tree, nor your frozen stream.
I am the rabbit sleeping deep in her borough; I am the bluebird flitting between trees.
I may be fragile, but that doesn't give you permission to break me.

She cried. I don't know why:
I was confused, I waited.
I tried to kiss her eyes,
I felt used, I contemplated

Lots of actions; none seemed right
I left her body, moved away.
By her reaction perhaps I might
Have seen I shouldn't stay.

She wouldn't talk. I didn't ask.
I dressed and watched her face.
She tidied, she had her mask
Held rigidly in place,

And I could not see through it.
She asked me quietly to leave,
Forever. I didn't do it:
How could I believe

She wanted me to go?
I was hers for the taking.
I wonder, does she know

I'm breaking?

so many "you're right's"
so many "I never meant to hurt you's"
so many "I'm sorry's"
so many ******* "I'm sorry's."