I want to be happy again.

I'm a danger to myself in the worst kind of way.

Ya know that feeling that creeps its way into your head when you least expect it? Depression.

I'm lost inside myself. I'm trapped. I'm held captive by demons that tell me that killing myself would be a good thing.

I miss you already.

I wish I knew
What to do
About the pain
I'm going through

Porcelain skin
Blood red eyes
Broken black wings
Tired of lies

I feel so alone.

The familiar feeling of the blade pressed aginst my skin tells me just how screwed up Ireally am.

If I asked you to care, would you pretend I wasn't there?