This is the mean reds.
They hurt all the way to your soul.
A stun gun would fail to shock me out of this.
I wake up feeling helpless against myself.
The easiest person to trust is yourself, so I hear.
I don’t trust me.
Bummed is the closest I can get to this feeling.
A familiar feeling that I’m unable to embrace.That past, this presant…
I cant keep feeling this much.
Now I know why I drank, now I know why I’ve hurt and this is all too much and so real.
I was taught early that I was expendable, my feelings unremarkable, and that’s what they tell me.
It’s an impulse to feel at home in my skin.
It’s an implulse I cant get a hold of.
So sad and so real, and I accept it.
I need that mask of disassociation.
I’m thirsty for it.
I’m hungry but the pain of hunger is too good to reflect that feeling.
I can’t feed myself, I need this physical point to reference.
It feels like a home.
I hurt and nothing can do that, it’s always a someone.
It’s predisposed to the make up of who I was or who I’ve become.
A quick fix with the cold heat of a razor, so brutal but such a relief.
So relivant and so appropriate.
Its what I turn to.
It’s what I have.
A drink down my throat, is a smack in the face…
If you put some ice on it you’ll numb it.
Cut it out and keep digging for those fragments I lost.
Becoming all I can to overcome this self hate.
Feeling loved but losing value.
I don’t trust this feeling.
Help, a kind word come to tease.
My walls are too high, my pain is too deep,
I want to feel anything but this.
Too much sadness surrounding me.
Closing in on me.
Inner strength, that inner peace.
The focus of a plea to get out.
The value is lost, I can’t live for them.
Only for me and I can’t even do that right.
It’s a tough role to jump into, as unstable as I am.
Acting as if I have it all together when I know I don’t
Are you fooled yet?
I don’t fool myself.
I’m sad.
I’m destructive.
I’m out of love.
I’m missing out.
I’m erradic.
I’m lost.
I’m hate.
I’m salvation.
I’m hurt.
I’m saved.
I cry.
I lose.
I take.
I keep myself.
I give me away.
I invert this feeling.
I suffer.
I cry.
I heal.
I’m not sure what I’m doing.
I fear what comes next.


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