I can't bare another lonely night.
Crying over God knows what.
Trying to get a hold of myself.
Wondering where my mind went.
It's off in some daydream unknown to everyone but me.
But what could possibly turn this dream into a nightmare?
Reality is the only nightmare.
Laying here in this bed.
Surrounded by darkness.
Quietly drowning in my own tears.
Stranded.
Sinking.
So lost.
I take medication to make me happy.
My skin became my canvas.
Because sometimes ink speaks louder than words.
My blood became my ink.
My flesh, my canvas.
A perfect painting of an imperfect person.
Such a terrifyingly wonderful sculpture.