deepundergroundpoetry.com

Bottled Hearts

a lonely night in despair
i open the drawer of mistakes
gently touching the voices
the screams beneath my skin

they are never quiet, never shut up
so today i finally decided
that i would cutt them out
and watch the blood run

turning black in a puddle
with feelings of remorse
when did the voices start
that day is so far now

i cant even remember
what it was like to smile
that time of misfortunes
runs long in the abyss

a forgotten stream of distress
passes my ears as i push
the blade doesn't quite sink
too shallow to see night

what is this feeling of life
the harder i push
the more i scrape, and slash
the more i feel happy

how can this be, is this normal
but the more i want this feeling
the more i'm hurt by the after shock
the pain comes in crippled stabs

but still the harder i cutt
the less the blade sinks
i keep pulling back
is this fear

this is not fear right
i mean i was just so happy
i was smiling, laughing even
where did those few seconds go

i have always bottled the emotions
but they always arose
when i never wanted them
when i wanted to destroy them

they are a burden indeed
i am a monster in my skin
a robot with the way i talk
getting lost in useless thoughts

this isn't like me at all
i am cold, sarcastic, and mean
where did it all go wrong
when did i start thinking they were true

i stopped recently
i stopped feeling alone
feeling useless and unwanted
and i didn't lie

so i'm still confused why do i want to die
when i still haven't released myself
from the bottles of emotions
i still keep in my shattered heart

thin ice of contempt i walk on
where did i get the idea
that i was strong
didn't even think that i was wrong

i'm weak that is why
that could be the only possibility
that is the reason for everything
everything that holds me down

the reason i am in so much pain
the reason i stopped the lie
the reason i started to smile
the reason i want to die

but as i realize this
the blade keep twisting on my arm
did i take to long to notice
that my blood tainted as it is

is still a red, a scarlet, a crimson
am i too late to grasp that i am still lonely
even with all the people around
because i am lost in my soul, not wanting to be found

so with that thought i freeze
and dig the knife deeper
forming black puddles beneath me
dyed in my own self pity