Thrice the needle has burned my skin
I’m always in fear that I’ll do it again
I pray I’m never driven to the blade;
I can’t, I won’t, my decision is made.

They shout all the time inside my mind
If only there were a place I could find
A place of peace where I could just think,
And not be tempted to pick up a drink.

This temple of youth I’m supposed to sustain
Is starting to crumble beneath my own brain
I look to the day where normalcy sits
Perhaps it’s in sight, perhaps it’s amiss

A new page is turning but I’m in the same place,
Not wanting to meet the things I must face.

---

It’s been 802 days since I wrote that s***
And actually, I have a lot to show for it.
Those scars have healed, and more have been made
But these ones are different; I don’t want them to fade.

I told all those voices to go take a hike
And found just one that I really do like
It’s me, it’s mine, and it speaks in volumes
In all these books I fill—I seriously have volumes.

I haven’t found that place of peace;
In fact I’ve given up the search
A watched pot won’t boil, I’ve found this to be true,
So I changed my direction to something entirely new.

That temple of youth?
It’s crumbled, it’s a ruin.
It doesn’t really bother me anymore,
It was bound to happen.

Oh, and normalcy?
It’s overrated.
To quote Van Gogh:
“Normality is a paved road;
It’s comfortable to walk,
But no flowers grow.”

Yeah, that was cheesy
Maybe I said it just to rhyme,
I’m just a s*** poet when I’m happy
It seems like my lowest point was my prime

I’ll keep my day job
Maybe poetry isn’t my forte
But it gave me a release,
A way to live day by day.

I know things will get bad again
Because life comes in waves
But at least I have these words all down
To show that I was saved.