the color of my heart,
it's black and blue from bruises i've inflicted upon my skin...
smashing my fist into my tender skin,
breaking the blood apart underneath;
then suddenly, i feel all self conscious when i'm littered in dozens of bruises.
which demons possessed me to do this?
so, i hide...
i hide underneath baggy sweaters and deafening music,
if i can lose myself enough, maybe my demons will let me loose and...
i'll be free.
the color of my heart is red,
like, the scratches i've dragged down my arms with nails hardly there.
red and bloody on white skin,
and the pain i consider it a gift for my sins
but once again, i start to feel self conscious.
i cry as i wrap them, and want so desperately to sink my teeth into my fists,
then i medicate to forget and i wrap the marks tightly around and around again.
the color of my heart is white,
like the flag i wave for help and get on my knees at the bed
screaming, maybe anyone will hear me
but i think god and most other people have given up on me.
my white flag is me saying i'm done sitting in the psychiatrist's office on a random thursday to hear her say,
"well kid, looks like you'll be on this medication for the rest of your days."
no really, you don't say?
the color of my heart is black,
from wishing i'd walk across the street and get unalived.
from the depression in my veins,
the demons in my veins and the anxiety that makes me crazy.
the black stands for everything i've fought for,
i've lost 'cause sometimes i think i'm a lost cause,
and i just wasn't meant to be okay.
the color of my heart changes and maybe someday it'll stay the same,
if i'm ever okay.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
||okay|| ~ angel
