I write because

Actions can never completely suffice.

We are to control ourselves

But there is a war raging within me.

I am breaking.

My defenses have broken away

And it is only a matter of time

Before there is nothing

Left.

I fear prescription

To save me from this

Pain and tiredness I feel

So I self-medicate

With a pen and paper.

They do not warn me

That they can kill me,

I can kill me

And they do not intervene

They are silent

Though not entirely.

When the voices don’t stop

Pen brings them to silence.

What little serenity

Is through this self-expression.

Originality is feared

But craved.

What I crave

Is to no longer feel numb.

“Help me”

Words I have uttered out

For far too long.

I have tried to go

But something keeps me here.

I am not happy.

I am coping.

I am trying,

To be and to remain.

Leave me be

With a pen to keep me safe.