TW// GORE, DEPRESSION, S3LF H4RM, CURSING, CHOKING, DEATH, SUICIDE. NOT RECOMMENDED FOR EASILY DISTURBED AUDIENCES.
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Once upon a time, there was a happy little girl,
She walked about, smiling and greeting everyone,
Her presence made the atmosphere light up in everyone's world.
Everlasting smiles, that she spread on the faces of every person.
She would laugh, she would smile,
She couldn't bear to see anyone cry,
The happy gleam in her eyes,
Made everyone feel butterflies...
But then, she grew up,
Her face grew dry,
She lost her gleam,
Oh, why do her eyes cry?
The, once talkative child,
When did she grow so shy?
When did she grow so protective of her wrists,
The wrists that she always hides?
Why does she force herself to smile,
When her eyes say otherwise?
Why does she keep on trying to fool everyone and herself,
With those stupid, dangerous lies?
Why, oh, why does she keep to herself,
In one corner, all alone?
Hugging her knees, hiding her face,
On the floor, so cold.
Ask her how she is,
You'll always know her reply.
It's always the same words,
The same goddamn lie.
"Oh, I'm fine." The words escape
Her lying, quivering lips,
While the lips of her mind never stop crying,
The cries that we always miss.
Why can she not look into the mirror
Without feeling utter disgust?
What does she see besides the face that's hers?
Does she see a face of rust?
Why does she cry herself to sleep
As she dreams about the rope
That she ties around her neck to escape
The reality that makes her choke?
Everywhere her eyes fall,
All she sees is death.
When from buildings, on the ground, she sees her bloodied form,
From ropes she sees herself hanging from the neck.
Everytime, she steps out into the yellow sunshine,
And down the street, she walks,
Not looking up, she keeps on trying to break free
From the fears that keep her locked.
In the dark, she lays,
Thinking about the time when she was okay.
When she hadn't yet died inside,
When she would actually want to wake up everyday.
When she would be the person,
With one of the most positive of minds.
When she wouldn't grab her hair, screaming endlessly in pain,
When, to this, her eyes were blind.
"How much longer?"
She doesn't know, and neither does her mind.
It could go on for a couple days, weeks, months or years,
Or for as long as she decides to be alive.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryIt's been a while since any of this. So idk it's kinda just here? I think? Fuck it *death metal sounds*
