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(tw: abuse, depression, suicide attempt)
FROM BLOOD-STAINED JOURNALS OF POETRY, WHEN HE WAS 9
recently it's like i'm no longer part of my body
as if my soul and i disconnected and everything is so foggy
when i look in the mirror i see black and white glitches
glazed eyes starin' down to a heart made of stitches
my mama says i'm too young to be this depressed
but why do i feel 10 lifetimes crushing my empty chest?
father likes to smash beer bottles against my bones
he kicks me in the stomach and his words hurt like stones
when he's not drunk he likes to tell me that i must be a man
i must never be emotional and pretend i give no damns
but the problem, the problem is i care too much
i don't know why but i get scared too much
i want to be the person that he wants me to be
but there's only darkness inside of me
and i can't hear my heart anymore, i can no longer see
the figments of my past self, shrouded in mystery
🌙
FROM BLOOD-STAINED JOURNALS OF POETRY, PRESENT TIME, AGE 11
when my parents fought i'd stare at the old piano book and i'd look through the notes and they'd rearrange into a garden of unknown languages and symbols and i'd grow forget-me-nots from the curves in the open notes and swipe cerulean over the sticcados and accents, breathing the last part of me that was alive into the lines of music while i stopped living and only existed
<i ' m d e a d i n s i d e>
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