Even in the midst of a pandemic, there is a future that’s worth planning for and looking forward to—and it’s on us to make that the best future we can. Read more →
If my cuts could spell.
I’d have more letters than the alphabet.
And more words than any dictionary could hold.
If my head wasn’t constantly jumbling words and slurring phases, maybe I could focus.
Focus on the other me sitting up half past three waiting for me to wake up and start all over again.
Start from the day I stayed home because I was sick, but really I was scared.
Scared to let you see me from the state I was in.
Hooded eyes, and a fake fuzzy grin.
Eyes red from the tears I tried to swallow.
My muscles tired from the weights I tried to carry.
My arms broken from the bruises it left on my skin.
locked the bathroom door so you couldn’t get in.
Turned on the shower so you couldn’t hear my scream, and the blade cut so deep, with every letter of your name, and I wake up and I start all over again.
The red hooded puffy eyes, and the same pale sick grin.
You ask me if I was okay, and I said yeah, while screaming the truth within.
I was caged within my own skin.
Trying to break out, and fix myself with busted pins.
The pins left a sting on my skin, but half the time I couldn’t feel it.
Tried cutting deeper and deeper, but the pain was shallow.
The spelling words pulsing through my skull.
Running down my veins, and into my bones.
Half the time the words felt worse than the pain, I felt exposed.
Crouching naked on the concrete, my skin nothing but letters, and twisted phases I can’t begin to comprehend.
I scream out I just want this to fucking end, and I wake up, and I start again.
Again to the day I was sitting in the chair of my therapist’s office.
She told me I had too much on my mind, and I wasn’t healthy within.
Dragged me down the hall and told me to get in.
Into the ambulance, where they told me I was sick.
The same hooded red puffy eyes, and the nailed on grin.
The same fake lines, and I tried to conceal within my skin.
Makeup only covers so much.
But the scars were plastered with sins.
And the sins were too deep for the makeup to cover.
I kneel down and cry, and I start to double over.
I haven’t eaten in days, and my skin is starting to crack.
I scream out in pain in the middle of an anxiety attack.
The words take over, and my head starts to spin.
But I wake up, and start all over again.
Start from when I went back to school, and you told me to get over it.
As if I could, don’t you think I would.
As if I choose to be happy to angry within a second.
I don’t even know why I’m mad.
As if I choose to be mad and suddenly sad.
I don’t know why I’m crying.
I’m just so sad.
All these words tumbling in my head.
Something like I fucking wish I was dead.
It’s starting to hurt
And I can’t make it stop
I just want it to stop
I just want it to stop
I just want it
Then I look at all the letters on my skin.
All these names, but never my own.
Bending my will to those who I thought I could call home.
While ruining my own.
I deleted every contact on my phone, but I just felt more alone.
Because half the names I forgot, because I never see them pop up.
I wipe my tears, and put on the grin.
I put on a smile and start all over again.
Start all over to the day my world came crumbling down.
I was sitting in your office.
Yeah we understand you’re a victim, but we only want the profit.
I was screaming and crying that night in the hotel.
I tried slitting my throat, and saying farewell.
But I’m tired of starting over, and I’m tired of this grin.
I’m tired of all these names plastered on my skin.
I’m tired of late nights, and not knowing what to do.
Slitting my wrists just at the thought of you.
Clearing the slate, just to dip down low.
So I say fuck you and farewell, to all the things you made me do.
Farewell to this hook I have on you.
Not even fare
Not even well
goodbye to this grip you have on my soul.
goodbye to the names stuck in my skull.
goodbye to the lies you told me, and staying up late just to see if you were okay.
goodbye to the next day you forgot I existed.
goodbye to the tears I cried for you, for the years I’ve tried for you, the years that I’ve lied for you, to the perfect picture little me.
Me that’s up half past three, crying and screaming, wake up, it’s just a dream.
Not even a dream a nightmare.
Just I’m stuck on this high that I can’t hear anything but the words jumping on my skin.
My fake plastered grin.
And then I start again.
Again to the cuts that will tell you so many tales.
The cuts that will tell you more than I ever will.
The cuts that tear down this fake plastered grin.
Straight to the puffy eyes, and jumbling phrases and sins.
Till I finally break out of my busted pins
And tell you
Stop starting over
And learn to begin.