PROSE

Deep inside her mind, it's a book of nightmares open wide,
You think it's cool when you read her story, but have you read between the lines,
The way that twists turns, and trouble all get into her head,
It would make you wish you didn't have to go to bed,
The terrors in her mind only bring back memories that she dreads,
Wishing she could die or run away never to be seen again,
The only thing she's ever wanted is for people to understand,
But she can only explain to you what it's like by saying,

"My blade's a little bloody red,
Tears in my eyes as I lay awakened in my bed,
It's from all the craziness and the mistakes I've ever made,
And now trying to love will never be the same,
My thighs and my wrists show the misunderstandings those people gave me,
Why say I'm perfect, then turn around and try to change me?
I try to stop it and open up, but what I do is not enough,
Now I'm just living in this cycle, faking smiles and acting tough."

I've got nervous ticks from what myself inside my head just said,
When I, too, was being pinned, cornered, and played by my consciousness,
I said how can you expect others to understand you if you can't understand yourself,
Those words were loaded into a gun and I had shot myself,
I was face down in an underground library with only books of truth left,
Walking my days as a stray with tunnel vision while speaking to no one else,
Destination unknown,
Taking giant leaps to make baby steps,
It's come to the point where I understand not a thing except,

"My blade's a little bloody red,
Tears in my eyes as I lay awakened in my bed,
It's from all the craziness and the mistakes I've ever made,
And now trying to love will never be the same,
My thighs and my wrists show the misunderstandings those people gave me,
Why say I'm perfect, then turn around and try to change me?
I try to stop it and open up, but what I do is not enough,
Now I'm just living in this cycle, faking smiles and acting tough."