The Adventure of Lying in Red Ink

Bone can’t bleed but skin sure can. So I pierce my skin and watch as red flows from my broken veins and my pink flesh fights metal knife to sew itself back together.

What’s one more scar?

No one will notice, there are hundreds of others

Each with a different story

Each time I lie they laugh, I’m the daredevil to them, always looking for my next adventure. But if they ever really asked they’d see that the only devil in me is the self loathing I feel with every breath that I take in each second of what they call time. I want to jump and dive, crash through these waves of sadness that drag me through my half life.

When can I breathe? How do I break away from these chains that pierce me?

I wish happiness could run through my veins because my blood is running out, I’m not sure this body can last much longer anyways.

I’m sick of emotions, I wish they would disappear. They don’t help me at all, merely kill me.

I wish I had the strong willed faith to say that someday I’d get over this fear of myself, but I don’t think I can. I don’t see a way out of this endless maze of my dead end bound life. But all I can find are the twists and turns that wrap poisonous vines around my heart. My mind is shot with words that consume my every waking thought so I can never be true to the self I had…once upon a time.

I don’t have the patience , my blood doesn’t have the time to wait for my promised to come happily ever after.

My scars tell the story,

My smile told the lie.

But if you could look into my eyes all the prose was written there from the beginning, I wish someone would just take the time to care to find the truth in my web of words.

I wish someone could have helped me and saved me from it all but everyone here is too scared of reality. So they close their eyes to mine and pretend we live in a fairy tale.

But in the back of my heart, the bit buried down at the bottom tied to a brick, I’m sure I could find some solution to my problem. But I have poked and prodded it into the corners in the hopes that by ignoring my glassy hardened eyes crying out for some help, I’d find enough rope to pull myself out.

But my hole is too deep and I just can’t reach the ground and I can’t see the sunlight. I’ve dug myself down too far to get out alone and I just need your hand. Just one little glimpse into my world, just one little boost, and I’ll start crawling back into normality and the reality of living.

I’m still too scared to scream out for help and at this point I don’t even know what to say. I’m not sure I remember how to function.

I wish I could stop masking my pain so maybe, just maybe someone will reach down their hand to help me.

But I see that everyone’s head has turned too far towards the sunrise to notice that I can’t escape the midnight gloom of lonely existence. Everybody else has traveled on to happier times and left me behind. So now I’ll drown in this hole of bitter weeping sorrow, or better yet I’ll empty my veins once and for all so that maybe next time around something better than despair poisoned blood will fill them up.