He feels weaker every morning;
physically, mentally, and emotionally.
The funny thing is, nobody can tell.
It's because he hides it so well
True love was forever lost. The prince was never coming back to kiss me awake from my
enchanted sleep. I was not a princess, after all. So what was the fairy-tale protocol for other
kisses? The mundane kind that didn't break any spells?"
These bandages cover more
than my cuts and bruises.
These bandages cover my
regrets and mistakes.
I'll write it in blood so it stains the walls.
Hand prints trail down the hall.
The bottel on the floor, The cuts on my arms.
Your useless words
Won't keep me from harm
HIs friends lie to him.
His 'brother' just doesn't care.
And you wonder why he
loves his alchol so much
Shinning bottel, you never let me down.
one more drink,
and I'd think I was a step closer to forgetting this pain
He pulled the trigger
his mask fell to the floor
with a shatter .
Trying to forget the scars,
Only makes you realize
Why you put them there
In the first place.
A glass here, a bottle there, I can't help it
Alone in my bedroom at night,
Maybe I'll just drink a little bit,
And make sure the door's locked tight
My eyes hurt from crying,
my heart aches from trying,
my throat burns from drinking,
and in the end.
I still have nothing
A Broken Mirror, A Bleeding Fist
A Bottle Piece Against A Wrist
Tears Falling Down To Lips Unkissed
Ignore Him And He Won't Exist
He's Not The Kind You'll Come To Miss
The first thing kids did in kindergarten
was get shown a picture of an apple and two oranges,
then pick out which ones didn't belong.
The first thing they were taught was that being different is wrong.
It's 2 AM and
He's lying on his bed
Staring at the ceiling
All these thoughts in his head
Just so confused
Doesn't know what to do
In need of someone to talk to
But doesn't know who
So he just lies there.
His eyes fixed on the ceiling
With his headphones blaring
But
He's hearing.
NOTHING.
He self destructs but you wouldn't know;
He does it to know that he has control over something;
He does it because no one was there for him;
But he hides so well
He was so fucking perfect on the outside.
No wrinkles in his clothes, not a hair out of place.
But underneath his eighty dollar jean jacket
Lie a patchwork of gashes
That seemed to never end.
But nobody ever would have guessed
His life's starting to fall apart
But he holds it all inside
Not wanting to explain or knowing where to start
Just looking for some place to hide
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for not being good enough.
I'm sorry that I wasted my time thinking I was.
I'm sorry that I just can't be perfect