"Gloriously Low"

Surrendering to a mistake or delusions,
of a past I hardly ever talk about now,
the fear of exploding within my bed,
the top scorer of many scores that's one too deep,
and I needed some one to pour to,
to tell what happened and why I was doing this,
my journal, my love, where there were no stones,
nothing could tell me not to say these things,
my pen was my sword against dark thoughts,
even if they were just a recording of them,
pushing them to get redder and blacker with marks,
a super explicit of pure white that had been stained,
smears of oil and disected until nothing is left,
a transformation that's hard to admire at a young age,
I didn't know what I was truely doing until it was done,
until the note had been written and I wanted to die.

It was the release I hadn't known would help so much,
the moment I knew I could be loved by a book with words,
the coils of organs something painfully sweaty like suicide,
I wrote and wrote until I couldn't stop and then here I am,
writing about why I write,
what it all means to me.

It means that even though I hardly notice,
it's the greatest release.