Why Not

Art

//really sad. Sensitive subject. Sorry//

  Artistic isn't it, the pain on the inside finds away to reveal itself on the outside. The beautiful art you create late in the night. The dripping color of crimson blood with clear tears.

  Artistic isn't it, the way your art stays hidden. The many scars you've created choose not to exist. the bloody clothes and stained blades put away

  Poetic isn't it, the way I'm fine flows out of your mouth almost like a river. The sad lies have become accustomed to you. The guilt slowly disappearing.

  Poetic isn't it, the way feelings come and go. The way you are over come by feelings you didn't know you had. The way you suddenly become numb.

  Depressing isn't it, when insomnia swallows you whole. The many sleepless nights. The reacuring thoughts playing over and over again.

  Depressing isn't it, how too much becomes too little, and too little becomes too much. The too little food turns to too much food. The too much makeup turns into too little.

  Shameful isn't it, the way you refuse to look into my eyes. The quick glances to the drawer where your "pens" are hidden. The tear filled eyes you choose to hide.

  Shameful isn't it, the way sleep becomes and escape. The way you wish your dreams were your reality. The way your nightmare of a life would just leave.

  Sad isn't it, the way I want you to be ok. How much I want you to want help. How much I wish I could help.

  Sad isn't it, the way you don't know. How you don't want help. How you're so close to being gone.

//yeah...I know. Btw not written about anyone//