Cried out eyes.

You know the ones.
Red rimmed, prickling.
Heavy yet light.
They blur the edges between...
Well, between practically everything.
Your mouth may say joy,
But your eyes won't comply.
Your soul has drained out,
And lingers on your lashes.
In your hair.
On your fingertips.
At the very peak of your nose.
And you only really stop,
When you've shed so much,
You've forgotten what it means to be happy.

I am.

I am the world's most horrible person.
Bow down and wonder at my powers of destruction.
No happiness or peace lives here,
Only sorrow and misery.

You want me to smile?
Here, the Joker says hello, happy now?
But really, why so serious?
Oh! Well that would be because I have no soul!

My only aim in life is to tear people to shreds.
To gut them and draw them out,
Enlightening them to the horror of the human condition.
Cruel, but kind.

I will make you cry and seethe,
I will make you question your own existence,
I will make you wish you never met me,
And I will do so using sarcasm.

So unbelievably tired.

So tired of not being able to control my brain and my body, no matter how hard I try.

Sick.

I'm sick,
so sick.
Sick of feeling like my life is a joke.
Like there is some higher being out there,
cramming as many clichés as possible,
into the shortest amount of time they can.

I'm tired,
so tired.
Tired of wanting to switch off my life.
Like that bad tv show everyone hates,
because it's so unrealistic and exaggerated,
but it's happening to me.

I'm lost,
so lost.
Lost and losing and losing and lost.
Like a forgotten favourite toy,
shoved to the back of the cupboard,
screaming to be held.

Falling.

Falling down.
Falling.
Falling backwards.
Falling.
Falling into old habits.
Falling.
Falling over and over.

When will it end.

Please don't.

Break, breaking, broken.
Ivory turns to rose.
Tiny vessels blossom beneath.
Raised ridges of release.
Instant self-hatred.
Momentary regret.
Endless pity.

Please don't hate me.
Please don't ever feel the way I feel.

Insomnia.

I need to stop overthinking.
I need to realise that no one here is judging my vocabulary, my grammar, my sentence structure.
I'm going to try and write without thinking.
But with this music pulsing through my head, how can I think of anything else?

I am down, please don't go.
Or take me when you leave.

I'm a little bit broken.
And a little bit lost.
But I like to think I'm getting a little bit better.
And I can't blame you.
But I do.
And you'll never understand.
But I think you should.
And there I go, thinking again.
But at least I'm still writing, hey?

Sing it quiet, sing it slow.
And I will listen loud.

I want to run and scream and stretch and pull and fall and hurt and hurt and hurt.
I want to stay, and go, and belong, and stand out.
I want I want I want I want.
I need.

I need to stop looking back.
I need to stop worrying.
I need to stop thinking 'What If?'
I need to stop thinking.
I need to stop.

I miss you.