You walked through life, alone for so long

Left sad and broken by the ways of the world

You sit in the dark so they can't see your scars

You hate this feeling, of not feeling at all

So when they cry out, who answers the call?

They call you a hero

The man who’s got it all together

You can save them all

But who’s going to save you?

You care so much, about everybody else

You run to help every cat stuck in a tree

But who here cares about the man who saved the girl?

He sure doesn’t, cause they destroyed his world

He sits alone, broken and defeated

Thoughts swirling round

It's out of control

Hes going mad, but no one seems to mind

“He seems ok” Maybe you should look twice

The hero doesn’t care, what happens to himself

Long as everyone is happy

Who cares that he's falling apart

While everyone goes out, he stays in

“Wouldn’t want someone to be hurt while Im gone” he says

He stares at the wall, and thinks about his life

He wonders what went wrong, and why they couldn’t have gone right

The hero sits alone

The pain ready to burst

Everyone is happy, his work here is done

He hears a scream of terror

And looks to see whats wrong

The mirror only tells him

What he knew all along

I'm afraid.

Afraid of the darkness

Of the thoughts that keep me awake

The monsters that used to remain under my bed

Have found their own sick ways into my head.

Their screams and their intentions

Keep me up at night.

I tried for years, but I had to give up the fight.

I stopped trying to hold back my pain

My emotions

My sickness

Now they flow like a river

And I'm left without a raft.

It drowns me everyday

The sadness

My head is a scary place

I see the demons you fear and they laugh in my face

I'm used to the torture

They visit me every hour

Every minute

Every second

Have you ever been afraid to sleep?

Not me.

I'm afraid to wake up

Because what I live through every day

Scares me more than even your worst nightmare could

I still see her wherever I look. I can’t do anything without thinking about her. I hear her voice in the music I listen to, I see her face in everyone I look at, I can’t even smoke without her taste returning to me. I’ve been a mess since she left. My friends and her friends have tried to help me move on from her, but I don’t want to move on. I want her back more than anything I’ve ever wanted. I crave her. I need her like I need oxygen, I need her body next to mine moving in perfect harmony, I need to hear her heart beating, slow and in time with my own. The memory of the first time I knew that I truly loved this girl sticks with me like a beautiful cancer. We were together in a car, she was looking out the window watching the people and cars pass us by. She turned to me and I saw the sunlight sparkling in her eyes. I told her how I loved her eyes, and she got so red and showed the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. It was at that moment that I knew I wanted to be with this girl. Her eyes were always my favorite part of her. They were the same as mine. We had the same hazel eyes that would change to blue or green depending on our mood. I spent hours lost in those eyes, and I never wanted to be found once I was there. Time with her was time away from the world’s problems. With her, I was happy for the first time in a long time. We were perfect for each other. We made each other happy. And our broken pieces fit together. That’s what love is to me. Not trying to find somebody who is perfect, but finding someone who is broken like I am. We’re all a little broken in some way. I’m really broken, and when she found me, I was about to go over the edge again. She saved me. She was my beautiful angel. But even angels are a little broken. And her broken fit perfectly with mine. I walk around the city searching for the girl I know I’ll never find. Even though she is around every corner and everywhere I look, I know that the girl I love is gone forever. She doesn’t love me anymore. When she left, she took my world with her. She was my light, and now I’m left alone with the darkness and everything that lurks within my head. Everything was perfect, until it all went to hell. She left without warning. Without so much as a reason to help me with the pain. My heart broke and hers moved on. I sit alone in my room with a bottle, trying to fill the hole that she left in me. I look at pictures of us. We were so happy. How did it end? I lost the one girl for me. I just hope she’s smiling somewhere. While I sit alone dead inside, she’s out having fun. She doesn’t realize that nobody will ever love her the way I do. No one will care for her like me. No one will show her the beauty of life like I do. My happy is gone forever. She was the only thing keeping me in this world. After years of going around this damned town, fruitlessly searching for the girl that broke my heart, I’ve given up. She’s probably forgotten my name by now, but I remember everything about her. I love her. So this bottle is for the love we shared once, and for the love I now solely possess. After this one, I’m gonna give up for good. I hope she’s happy. That’s all I ever really wanted. I just wish I could’ve been the one making her happy.

I sat alone in the room. Clouds of dust floating around as if they were the airborne ashes of the foul memories that originated here. I look at the now faded blue walls and imagine a time when they were pristine and beautiful. My mother painted them when I was nine. It was the only thing I had wanted for my birthday that year, to replace the bland grey with a color that rivaled that of the endless sky. She died a few years after, leaving me with my father, but I may as well have been alone. He was never at home, and when he was, he was either passed out drunk or high as a kite. In the rare moments when he was conscious, he would treat me as a punching bag. I had become closely acquainted with the medicine cabinet, especially in my teenage years. I stared at my carpet, once a white shag piece that mom always told me was cut from a polar bear’s fur (when in actuality was bought from the thrift shop downtown), had accumulated many stains from my youth. Blood from the beatings I took from my father, spilt alcohol from the nights I could sneak it away and drown out my sorrows, and more blood from the times I took the pain away for myself. The windows were dirty. I could hardly see through them. I recalled the many times that I woke to the sound of my dad screaming for me from the ground, or looking out the once clean window and seeing him laid out half naked in the lawn, his hands clutching an empty bottle. I took a sip from my own, like father like son I suppose, and looked around the room to reminisce a bit more. I saw my bed. The place I’d spent years crying myself to sleep. When mom was alive, her and my father would scream at each other every night. Their voices echoing through the house and bouncing around in my head. Those screaming voices stuck with me throughout my life. I still hear them some nights. I sat on my bed and finished off the bottle. I looked down at my arms and remember the only times the pain wasn’t there. I see the scars that grew exponentially with my sadness. I couldn’t take being alone, and empty, and sad. I needed something to take away the hurt. A razor became my best friend. I had felt the cool sting of the blade against my skin many times in this room. It comforted me. It distracted me from the scary world out there. I lay down and stare at the ceiling. Spiderwebs hung in each corner. Marvelous works done by miniscule hands. The worked together to create their masterpiece. They had family, and friends, and a home. I never had any of that. Yes, I have this house, and this room. But I have never had a home. A place I wished to go back to, a place where people loved me, and place I was happy. I don’t know why I came back here. This room keeps me chained to the world I don’t want to live in. The one with my father, with my ugly carpet, and with my pain. I want to leave it behind, but it won’t let me go. I always find my way back here. This room is my prison, my punishment for not ending it all when I had the chance. I look around one last time before leaving that place and locking the door behind me. I hoped to never walk into that room again, but I knew that we would meet again, and again. Because that room, while it is my own hell, was the closest thing to a home I ever had.  

Sitting alone

Feeling empty

Choking

Gasping for air

Crushed

By the weight of the world

Unknown

Unloved

Forgotten

"Smile, life is beautiful"

Maybe through your eyes

Mine see nothing

So much nothing

Darkness

I walk through it

Day after awful day

The worst part is

I'm too afraid to die

There's no escape for me

I wander without purpose

What have I done?

To enact this torture

With no end in sight