Feast of a Heart

Lights?

The lights I keep on in my room are the same, but not quite, as the ones I keep on in my head. Bracing myself against the dark, like my thoughts, just to give myself a little bit of sanity. I can't keep giving in to all the dark parts of myself or is it this room? I can't distinguish between the two anymore. I live so outwardly with my fears and scars scrawled across my doing. My heart bleeds for those around me. Every wound to them takes another chunk out of myself.