Before It's Too Late

"Size zero or die trying"

"Everything's fine"

"I don't know why I try"

"Nobody loves me"

"I can't stop", " I won't stop"

"Why won't it stop?"

"Make it stop!"

Generations of teens down on their knees,

Begging "God, please, save me".

They want out of this Hell,

Out of this life,

Because it wasn't their option to sign up for it in the first place.

There are two kinds.

The ones who go far enough, 

And the ones who go all the way.

There are insecure teens walking past you everday who are heros of war.

They've fought teachers,

They've fought rules,

They've fought friends, family, strangers, lovers, peers,

But mostly themselves.

They either fight the blade,

Convince it to grant them the power to live;

Or they fight the hospital beds where they're forced to stay,

Because they just can't take one more day.

But hey-  you're lucky if you even made it that far,

Because it takes a lot of courage to throw away your battle scars.

Because that's what they are.

You see these slits on my wrist?

They're not just there for decoration, they're not there for fun.

They built up over time, they didn't just appear.

It took weeks, months, and even years

And I could feel them itching underneath my skin,

Until one day I just couldn't take it anymore and I had to free them.

They took years to grow but only seconds to set free,

And as the red poured out I felt as if I was being washed clean.

Even if only for a minute, with the Hell I've been through, that minute feels like an hour.

When every day I have is Hell I get addicted to its power.

I feel like I'm finding myself and who I am,

Or maybe I'm just losing the feeling in my hands.

I didn't mean to cut that much, that deep.

I didn't mean to lose control.

I just wanted to feel something- or maybe nothing at all.

To watch the blood pour from my veins,

Just to make sure I am alive.

I wanted to control something,

Because I can't control this life.

I want someone to look at me me and say I'm broken,

And know I can't be fixed.

Because how could anyone- ever- fix this?

I have shame bleeding out of me,

I have death at my lips,

saying "Baby come with me, I know you're scared but I can make it all better. Trust me."

But life is clinging to your hand and he won't let you go,

He's kissing all your wounds adn he's giving you his love.

He's saying "I know Baby it seems hard now,

But there's a reason I put you in this and I'm gonna pull you out.

I promise you, I won't let go."

It's getting hard to breathe right now.

You're thinking you should go.

There'll just be empty stares from family and friends.

And you'll feel guilty because you'll just want it all to end,

And they'll pretend to be themselves but it won't ever be the same.

Because they saw all of your shame as if it were nailed to the floor.

So you're just gonna let go now,

Not that it's really your choice.

You're all out of options and all out of time.

You can hear life's voice cry, 

"Please, don't let go.

I have always loved--"