Loud Pøetry Spilled From The Quiet Soul

Part 48

The feeling that you suffocating when your sad is deafening.
You think it will end but really you just bathe yourself in the depression of music to silence the voices that claw there way through.

It's funny how we think we can make It through a day without thinking about cutting open ourself to seek escape or pleasure.

It's sad when you don't know how to control yourself anymore.

It takes a second to go from laughing to barley keeping your eyes open long enough to see the difference between your reality and there's.

I don't know if I can trust myself anymore.
As soon as I enter a bathroom I have this urge to cry, but if I cry, would I be able to stop?
I want to believe things can get better but when things do look up they get crushed by the cruel reality itself and force me to realize that it won't.

To stick my fingers down my throat and feel the flames of hell come pouring out and into the toilet bowl.

To listen to the sound of the blade clashing against my skin turning white porcelain into red torment.

Has anyone ever made you promise to not cut and to throw away your blades and you curl your bony fingers behind your back and nod.

They think you won't anymore and they are happier.
Happier that they won't have to burden you anymore.
That they don't have to stay on guard and find the right words for when you are going to break next.
So you keep it all in.
You sew it shut away from everyone else including yourself until it starts tearing at the seems forcing it's way out to fall to the ground and make you face the harsh reality you call
"home".