In this place, you are uncomfortable and uneasy.

The walls are colorful but the minds are black.

Your wrists are scarred, your heart is broken.

To be caged like a bird.

It is difficult to be treated like you killed a person; when in reality, the only person you wanted to kill was yourself.

Relapse.

The long sleeve shirts cover the scars.

You wish nothing more than to stop your thoughts, but they won’t stop; they never will.

You’ve come to realize that the monsters are no longer under your bed; they are inside your head.

An insomniac and intelligently insane.

You use to think you were stable, but now you know, the only thing stable was your pain.

The smell of fear lingers from your dripping red wrists.

For each purple line reminds you of a time that being strong wasn’t an option.

Stop.

The thoughts subside but the pain does not.

m.b