Would crying ease the frustration that I feel; soothe the irritation brewing in my mind? Why do I abuse myself in this unspeakable manner? Scratching off my skin, so much pleasure in my grotesque task, reaping the justified feeling of burning skin. Somebody make me stop, make me love myself. I need him, I love him.

I don't want to give up, but do I really have a choice? I cannot see the future, I cannot see the past. I'm standing still in a life of disarray. Yet what does a person, whose every hope proves false, aspire to believe in? Life does not get easier, it chokes your dreams. I thought I was a fighter, but I became the victim of sick self-doubt. I no longer have any independence, I am dependent on invisible drugs.

Flat

I hate the way you make me feel, yet I dream of having you hold me in your arms; to be safe with you. But you don't see me anymore. I am nothing to you. You should have stayed away, I longed for you less. Now, now you're gone. You said goodbye, left me uncertain, is there a reality, a hope which is not false, or an emotion that can combat the apathy?