It started young, A single crack a shattered map. “you used to know right from wrong” -lines blur when, you're awake all night long. I'm numb I know I was never “strong” I'm broken, it's true “That's-” not anything new. I am twisted I am empty I am bleeding There is no me- you see, It started young, a single drop. Now, I can't ever stop.
Did you feel it The shame of what you did? I did I wished I bit my tongue. Did you feel the wrongness, That you had no right- I did I wished I’d “minded my own business.” Did you know The way your action spread hatred? I did I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Were you embarrassed? When I said “that’s not okay” I was. I wished I could disappear. Did you really think Linger on your own words? I did I thought you might be right (Was I being too sensitive-?) Did you regret your actions ...
I wish I could bleed Slit my skin Until I could see My wires Dig deeper What’s underneath Rust stained fingers My oil leaks Iron air lingers Shaking wrists squeak Little red lines How they weep Losing time now Not just sleep Boredom pulls Scares ache Ripping down walls Please wake Old curiosity How many I’d take To go away To let them see What they’ve done Selfish again It’s me Not them.
What did you think Past the alcohol Tainting your every breath. What did you see Was it red Did you hear the words I bled From my lips to your ears There were no tears I rolled my shoulder Looked in the mirror Fingerprints on my skin A fast beating heart I whisper “Is it all your fault?”
that's all there is, -if you're lucky. Why? Because some people aren't made with oceans of feelings. Some people are made only to be punctured. In their childhood all their contents leaked out, and now, if they're loud, It's not because they're hurting or happy. It's just an echo, because they're empty. Like a tin can.
Loud. My Jumping ribcage, metallic laughter, fluttering hands. Shut up. Louder. The raw meat red shade of my skin, the prickle of sweat, the uncomfortable surge of adrenalin. You can’t speak intelligently. Quiet. The sticky-shaky feeling, stinging, the chasm in my stomach, This is what you expected- why is it disappointing? Quieter. The inside of my skull, tired acknowledgment, crescent moon palms. Repeat.
They’re silent, wrapped in their bones. They’re quiet, contemplating their own They’re loud, wavering, trembling Red voice, red skin Another memory to scream Their sanity thins Backs turn, smiles fall, Shaking hands, bruised-dark skin. They’ll never give their all.