I wonder if they know

I wonder if they know,
how behind my smile and fassade,
my doubt and selfhatred remains,
how and where my sick brain reigns.

I wonder if they know,
that the drugs didnt quiet me down,
little cover they provide from the toxic rain,
that is the hurricane of my brain.

I wonder if they know,
that my heart is still closed off.
How I still barely feel love or trust,
anyone, even though i must.

I wonder if they know,
how my smile is a lie.
Hiding a fucked up mind,
even though I act so kind.

I wonder if they know,
how even though I am happy,
my thoughts remain the same.

I wonder if they know. 

shut up to protect them

Turning my sadness into a joke,
helps me, but not them, not you.
It helps me to cope and smile,
but you dont know what to do.

You feel bad for me,
and as I smile your frown grows.
Your voice becomes quieter,
and my evil self just knows.

I did it again. I made you sad.
With just my words, loud and clear.
Pushed you over the edge, barely holding on.
and I dont want to make you sad my dear.

I need to shut up, I say,
instantly regretting it,
when you stop mid sentence,
I know what I did.

Shut up, I say in my head.
Shut up, shut up shut up.
They shouldnt know.
They shouldnt know whats up.

I dont want to make you asd.
I should shut up to protect you.
You know what? I will. 

Too much

How are you supposed to stay strong,
when your friends break apart,
how are you supposed to smile,
when their life becomes hard.

How are you supposed to stand by,
when there is no way to relieve their pain,
How are you supposed to just watch,
while their sadness drives them insane.

When they are so near tears,
their voices breaking,
hushed voices trying to cover up,
that they are suffocating.

I can't help you.
Whats my purpose.
Why would I live. 

Because I hate myself

Staying up until 5 am,
never resting, never calm,
always on the edge of me,
because I hate myself.

Spitting out food,
throwing up dinner,
just wanting to be thinner,
because I hate myself.

Never talking to anyone,
barely smiling, barely looking,
keeping my head down,
because I hate myself.

Parting skin,
slicing deeper and deeper,
blood as fresh as I love it,
because I hate myself.

I hate myself,
and I don't think that I can stop.

My choice

Is it my choice to be sick,
is it me who causes me harm?
Is it my doing that I cry at night,
picturing my future without any light.

And if its my doing,
than who am I to call for help?
Shouldn't I punish the monster,
punish the sick soul that is there.

Shouldn't I inflict pain,
on who caused all this pain for me.
Shouldn't I gave them the punishment,
that it gave to me?

But than there is the side,
that if it was me who did it.
Shouldn't i stop the crying,
the selfharm, the hiding, the lying.

Shouldn't I take the chance,
to finally be happy and smile a bit?
Without those chains holding me back,
could I just be that innocent kid.

Shouldn't I just
try it for once? 
Try.
To be happy.

untitled #3

I think it says a shitton about how I feel about you by the way that even the thought that you might be in the same supermarket as me, even if its absurd, is making me have a panic attack and I cant watch old videos that i made to "save the moment" because Im scared of the memories or how I have nightmares about you visiting my flat and coming inside although I could juat not let you in but I know myself, I know that i will do it just like last time when you came and stole a kiss you didn't deserve.
Or how I still keep your note and remember your face so dearly, how I cant hear certain songs without wanting to cry.
I dont know how to let go even though I should. But then again. Does it really matter.

What Are Friends For Me

when can you trust a person,
when can you call them friends,
when can you trust them.
Who will follow until your life ends?

I trusted you, with my life,
was about to put it in your hands,
at your mercy, at your will.
now I can see how far my trust bends.

I don't care about safety,
don't care about love or me.
I don't care if youre a good person,
or a evil devil wannabe.

I'll throw myself at you,
for the smallest shard of attention,
to fill the void inside of me,
but your love was a beautiful deception.

I cut myself open on it,
tearing through my heart and soul.
Bleeding and crying,
but not letting go.

Because I would rather die clinging to another person who is hurting me,
than to live with myself again.
Because I would rather let someone who I love destroy me,
than to face my own demons again.
Because I would rather get abused helping someone else,
than to help myself.
Because I would rather swallow my tears to hold you and tell you
"it's going to be okay",
than to face the fact that I am insane.