I think I am gone,
because one after one, the pieces of my perished sanity fell to the floor
I drifted day after day seeing bloody remains
I butchered my soul, and my emotions lay astray
I began to fade into the ghost I made
no one looked hard enough at the carcass I became, and they all stared through me

I am gone,
but I think that’s okay,
I spent hours a day crucifying myself with hateful chants
I always put a smile on my face, because nobody around me wanted a change
I grew tired of the tedious routine, and accepted the ghost I was turning into,
because it was easier to simply become gone

While I was carrying an invisible axe over my shoulder, no one realized I was chopping up my heart when I often played happy
The worst part of all? It seemed everyone had worse problems than I, yet I still was troubled
I knew I was adored by many, but they knew not the rusty blades I swallowed each day
I played stoic to shield my emotional turmoil, because I refused to reveal my bag of knives that I used to carve cursed scriptures onto myself

In a sadistic sense, I was content with my way
when I bathed in my torment, I knew I was granting myself a favor,
I loved that my sick, loathing thoughts fueled me through the day
everyone looked right through me and that was perfectly okay, I wanted to shove the razor blades down my throat each day
I was content with my way

I am gone,
I alone have allowed it, and I’m at peace with it
I will go about my day normally,
I will smile, and play the cordial, jovial person everyone knows
I have slaughtered myself and no one will know but I,
and that’s okay with me.