When you’re so scared you can’t breathe,
You’re so sad you can’t dream,
The thoughts inside your head won’t leave,
When nothing is like it seems.

You’re so tired you can’t sleep,
Just pull the covers over your head
So numb inside, you can’t weep,
Shut your eyes tight, you’re somewhere else instead.

All around you there are smiles,
Friends and family, mother and child,
Laughter, tears and once-a-whiles,
While all your thoughts are running wild.

You’re trapped inside your own head,
Lying there at night just staring,
Everyone including you, wishing you were dead,
She’s on your shoulder, nostrils flaring,

YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG LOOK AT YOU
She screams in your ear at the top of her voice,
YOU’RE FAT, YOU’RE UGLY, YOU KNOW IT’S TRUE
You know she’s right, but you have a choice.

Starving and dancing, the perfect cure,
Burning the calories, sweating it out,
You know it works, you did it before!
Nobody needs to know what it’s all about.

Looking in mirrors every time that you pass,
Staring at your body, your face,
You know it’s true, you’re an ugly lass,
Someone gorgeous will just take your place,

Come on, take those pills, get the code,
Take that blade beside you there,
Before on yourself you just implode,
Quick, get it over with, no-one would care,

But this is where the story twists,
You just don’t know whether to end it all;
Drag the blade across your wrists,
Or stand up every time that you fall?

So many people have faith in you,
Yet you have no ounce of it in yourself,
No matter what it is that you do,
That everything gets better, even your health,

But you don’t want to recover, you know that much,
Want to stay childlike and tiny, faceless and empty,
You just have no faith, no confidence, no belief as such,
How much do I have to scream out for people to help me?

Copyright, October 14th 2012.

Walk up the stairs, shut the door
Throw your jumper, on the floor,
Go to your hiding place and find,
The pieces of metal which help you unwind,

Grab your tissues, a wet flannel and it,
On the bed, exhausted, you sit,
Sighing, dying, sick of trying,
You beg and beg but you’re not crying.

Drag the blade across your arm,
‘Come on, harder, it’ll do you no harm’
Looking down, you see the blood,
In a rush, all of your feelings flood,

Out of the hole you’ve left in your skin,
Where the perfect complexion had once been,
Revealing a bright red river cascading down,
All those feelings; you’re going to drown.

Sighing now you lift your head,
‘Nothing’s good enough’ they all said,
Bleeding, pleading, every night in your mind,
But nothing’s spoken, everything confined,

Staring down at your canvas of art,
Blood continues to pump from your heart,
Trickling, crawling, out from your skin,
You feel no better now, you just can’t win.

Over your wounds you wrap the tissue,
Suddenly thinking, no-one would miss you,
Taking the tissue off once more,
You rip harder, you want to make the blood pour,

Deeper and deeper you try to go,
‘Come on’ it said ‘You’re going too slow!’
Stressed, depressed, you try and fight it off,
When you give in and tear, you see the tissues within.

‘Shit’ you think, as the blood comes to the surface,
Dabbing and padding, the cut, you’re nervous,
That the blood will continue to pour and not clot,
And the feelings that pour out will fester and rot.

 Copyright, October 6th 2012