My throat spoke to me 

It said let me go

I can't breathe, I am suffering 

This Isn't fair to me, what are you doing this for?

Why are you doing this to me?

And all I could think was how much longer would I bleed?

How much more pain would I endure?

How much more suffering would I receive?

And how many more demons would I let inside of me?

I opened my veins and they started talking, saying this past year had been a conspiracy

They started crying as they told me their colors changed with the season 

And they asked did I have a reason?

Did I have a reason for breaking?

Maybe I didn't, maybe the reason I've been talking to picture frames and walls is because they started talking to me first, started saying how lovely I was and how my wrists were beautiful

How the way the scars tracing their way up to my shoulder was a sign of beauty not pain

How the crying at night was a sign of bravery and that I wasn't insane.

I wish I could believe them, I wish I could stop for a moment and see all the scars, see all the missing blood in my veins and the bruises inside of my rib cage. I was hurting and for what purpose? For some unnamed god? For the voices screaming in my ear and for all the murders I had thought? I had no friends but me, and one night I told the wall of my story and it screamed at me, why did it scream at me?

Why did I let go of its covers and let it fall into the sea, was it blasphemy? did the wall hate me for showing who I was and did it leave just because?

The next day came and I heard no voices, I heard no talking about how the blood pouring down my wrists were of beauty, I had no throat telling me to stop or veins to say it hurts. I had no more friends, so I started to mourn

Why am I suffering? Why am I so lonely in this world I had grown sane?

God isn't here with me, maybe there wasn't one

I couldn't tell, I couldn't tell anymore because for all of the times I screamed in my house, all of the times I broke down, I still had no one, I still had no one.