fading-away-from-here:

At 5 am
When the world is asleep, my thoughts wake me up
The silence of the night is my companion,
the moon is my lover

The darkness in my room gives me enough light to write
It hides me from the world,
and exposes me to myself

My body shakes as my soul is trying to escape
This skin is not mine,
This body does not belong to me

I get up, crawl into the bathroom
I look into the mirror,
someone I’ve never met is looking back at me
Her black eyes are soulless
My body shakes
The mirror, blue glass with a horrid figure
Her face is white, like a corpse,
hands long for a place to touch

If you were to cut me open, a black void would fill the room.
Try it! For you cannot kill someone who is already dead

When you find my blood stained body,
do not touch me,
for this darkness might consume you too

When you find my empty body,
take a picture,
for I’ve never felt this calm

Know,
there’s a letter on my bed,
a blank note, explaining exactly how I feel

Do not blame yourself,
it’s too late for that now.
Just tell my mom,
I know she is sad.
When she starts screaming,
pulling her hair out,
remind her that is too late for that now
Even if she had listened when I told her I was sad,
I’d still be sad
Forbid her to blame my father,
and take the beer out of his hands.
Warn him about the dangers of smoking,
Like I used to
he won’t listen though, he never did anyway

And most important of all,
hug my little sister,
tell her heaven was calling
Even if we both know that’s not true

On my funeral.
don’t let anyone cry
It’s too late for that now
Where were their tears when I needed to clean the blood out of my floor?
Where were their flowers when I needed to smell something other than vomit?

If someone says
“I never saw that coming”
Slap them
“She looked so happy”
Slap them again
Just because you don’t pay attention, it doesn’t mean it’s not happening
My mind was an ocean and I was drowing,
what I wouldn’t give for a hand to reach
I screamed to make you listen.
but you only complained about the noise

But now the flowers keep coming,
like they still have unfinished conversations,
like something is left to say

All these black dressed
and black smokings
All these empty chairs
I collected tears like stamps and sent them to you in hope you’d come
It’s not your fault for not caring,
It’s my own, for thinking you would

(via fading-away-from-here)

arnold-ziffel:

Lost… in feelings…

(via omggirlss)