on depression and cutting
Do I feel good enough?
Am I worthless?
Whats wrong with me?
To big, to empty,
The song of nothing plays inside my head.
Maybe that's why I can't sleep at night.
I just wanted to quiet the voices screaming at me.
I'm sorry I couldn't cope.
I'm sorry that I'm weak and indulge in secret interludes
To alive my restless ache.
Restless motion spins like a drying cycle before my eyes.
I'm sorry that I need you.
I know in the eternity that spans before me,
Vast, cold, and endless, there is no harbor that would take me now.
I am alone
And the tree's stand barren in my life.
The fruitless womb of promise
Expels it's last stillborn.
Hope is unbreathing.
Wrap her and bury her
The sun stops for nothing.
It will set as it has thousands of years before.
Come let us depart, and let loose the night
To steal the last fragile breath and pale wisps of soul
Before the coming morn.
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