Why?

Why is it that I always long to be somewhere that I cannot find?
Why is it that no matter how far I walk I never seem to arrive?

Why is it that I don’t cry anymore but feel so much worse?
Why is it that I thought I was free, yet I’m stuck with this curse?

Why is it that the sky always decides to grow darker when I look up?
Why is it that every night I sit alone, and my body I slice and I cut?

Why is it that nobody loves me, yet so many say they care?
Why is it that I’m always alone, even when everyone is there?

Why is it that every time I try to fly I fall much further than before?
Why is it that when I want to escape, I tighter lock is tied to the door?

Why is it that I only feel safe when there is no one else around?
Why is it that I jump and I hide at even the most familiar sound?

Why is it that demons and angels haunt me every night in my dreams?
Why is it that I am always the last to be picked for the teams?

Why is it that I fell in love with someone who will never love me?
Why is it that every time that I look closer each time the less I can see?

Why is it that nobody sees them, the knives and blades I have in my room?
Why is it that as I around everyone else’s lives have started to bloom?

Why is it that every word I say or thought I think just contradicts the last?
Why is it that when I try to find the answers all I can find is my lonely past?

Why is it that all the others can smile, or at least hide away their feelings?
Why is it that new cuts are there and even the old ones aren’t healing?

Why is it that my words are no longer helping me to free my pain?
Why is it that every time I see hope someone is dragging me down again?

Why is it that I am only ever whole when all around is falling apart?
Why is it that I was left with a burnt and charcoaled ebony heart?

Why is it that I always want the things that I can’t quite reach?
Why is it that I forget each and every word the teachers teach?

Why is it that if I lose myself in my thoughts I cannot find an escape?
Why is it that in the night I'm taunted my devils and the fears they create?

Why is it that I write these words as if nobody has ever felt like this?
Why is it that I desire a knife in my hand and death’s embittered kiss?

Why is it that at night I talk in tongues to myself in my head?
Why is it that every morning I find new bloodstains in my bed?

Why is it that I falling so fast now, and all the hands holding me are letting go?
Why is it that my head’s full of questions, with answers that I will never know?