I am one of the haunted here.
I walk down the hall with my
dead face on
and grasp at the sides of the walls.
It gives me something to hold on to.
This flatness eats away at me
until I am weak
in its wake.
Oh how the silence grows.
It really goes to show just how
desperate you would have to
be just to get here.
It is too quiet, and we all wear the same
dead look in our eyes.
And we don't acknowledge each other
as we walk by.
But I myself am the queen.
I am the one whom the elements call
with a shriek. See how I
twist the bare wires to form
a perfect heart.
It beats when it's placed in your hand.
They do not understand that
I am the one who appears by
your bed and in the mirror.
I am kept on the shelf
but I am here for something else,
and I grow as dead as the ones
I am near.
Royalty in a locked ward,
there is something in my eye.
Oh I am alive but I am
not pieced together quite right.
Something has to be done
or I'll never get out of this place.
I didn't commit any crime.
If it was you, what would you do?
I only took back what was mine.
I want you to tell me the truth,
if you were in the state I'm in
and got sent to the quiet room
you'd take it out upon your skin.
You'd try and swallow all the pills
or starve yourself til you were thin.
You can't see health when you are ill.
I know, I've been there. I have tried.
It didn't work. My only skill
is taking back what once was mine.
I didn't commit any crime.
Nine hours in a crisis room
will fuck a little with your head.
You know you won't be let out soon,
you start to wish that you were dead
and take back everything you said -
"What, kill myself? I've never tried
to hang myself in someone's shed."
I fall as quickly as I fly.
I was admitted. I was doomed
to repeat patterns cast in red.
I cannot take these shifts of mood,
I'd rather take the pain instead.
Admitted once they found a bed
and labeled "failed suicide",
it fills me with a kind of dread.
I fall as quickly as I fly.
Upon release, the trees had bloomed.
In the morning, I was fed
then discharged in the afternoon.
The only thing that I had left
was a sort of small regret
that in the end, I went and lied
and gave a different sobriquet.
I fall as quickly as I fly.
Bandages and tourniquets
are just one way I exorcise
the way I feel. I'm bound in thread.
I fall as quickly as I fly.
Things got bad inside my head.
I relapsed, so who gives a fuck?
I'm still alive. I am not dead
because I chose to make a cut
but just one cut is not enough.
I've gone too far, I've crossed the line.
My arms - the skin is coarse and rough.
I fake a smile and swear I'm fine.
This need in me, it must be fed.
I did not tell the ones I trust.
I chose to cut my arms instead,
I don't know why they make a fuss
when I need stitches just to shut
the depth of harm. It's not a crime
to take the pain, it's just self-love.
I fake a smile and swear I'm fine.
To speak of it fills me with dread.
It shows my caliber of luck
when I am pieced back up with thread
because my sharps were full of rust.
It fills me with a sort of lust
every single fucking time
I cut or bleed, when I throw up
I fake a smile and swear I'm fine.
I didn't lie. I only said
I would not give up what was mine.
I'm only calm when I have bled.
I fake a smile and swear I'm fine.
When you left me, you left me for dead.
When you came back, the sheets were red.
Every word you said were lies -
you left me and I still survived.
Everything happened just so fast -
you left me and the stone was cast.
With all the blood that I have spent,
you'd think that I was heaven sent.
How I woke up, I don't know.
I grabbed the thread and started to sew
and by the time the sun came up
I'd stitched together all my cuts.
When I awoke, I awoke in bed,
the lightbulb, cracked, above my head.
I closed my eyes and tried to soothe
myself. The white walls of my room
have always brought me peace of mind,
the way my pictures are assigned
a certain space upon the wall -
but I think of you and I start to fall.
And I am humbled. I am awed
with just how much you find me flawed.
Your expectations were too high
so when you left, I swore I'd die.
It's easier to just give up -
a little slit, a little cut.
When you left me, you left me for dead
but I awoke. I lived instead.
I'm all dolled up. My hair is long,
and I'm a slut - but just for you.
I sing the songs of all the swans
beneath a tree with gnarled roots.
The birds nest gentle in my hair,
I fold myself in solitude.
But when I look up, you are there.
You take my hand and we walk home.
I used t o quake when I was scared
that you would leave me all alone.
The northern star, I wished upon
that you would keep me as your own.
We had a secret all along -
we fuck without a condom on.