n0t a waste 0f space.

my frens give me terrible advice

Grab the blade, hold it tight

Grit your teeth with every slice,

Fuck life, fuck you and all your lies

That feel like truths that become my second skin

Armor designed to leave you broken.

Except that it never leaves, just becomes your mentality.

Oh wait, I'm sorry, this is just getting gory.

You came for a poem that's depressing—

--ly romantic right?

Came for some pent up, teenage angst to validate life,

Make you feel like your flaws are okay,

Do you want me to turn my scars into paint?

Craft beautiful words from blood stains?

Because it's easier when it's pretty pain.

Let's add flowers to our mental graves

Cause hating yourself, giving up on life

Isn't as bad when you glorify night.

Let's wrap our demons in bows and lace

Let's obsess over death, give it a face,

Give it a place.

Where we stand and let it shake

Us. Let it become us, let's adopt

All our scars and suicidal minds,

Turn it into poetry cause that's easier, right?

Don't fight hopelessness, embrace your fate

Because it's easier to love the thing you hate

Instead of fighting against our pain, just say okay.

Adopt it and lovingly hand it the blade,

Not saying anything.

Here's your fucking poetry.

Hope you're happy, I am not

But I'll wear my depression like a crown,

A flower crown cause I'm aesthetic, crying, please

Someone prove that they really love me.

But life isn't like teenage poetry,

No one comes running to dry your tears,

Not romantic to live inside of your fear.

Isolation becomes your cloak,

And anxiety isn't cute, it's not attractive,

Doesn't make you seem more innocent.

Stop giving into paint, dressing it up,

Grab its ear and tell it:

"enough."