BleedingLook,Here comes your BrideLike the dead body of ChristChest is not risingEyes so terrifyingFighting to stay up right and in thisHair hiding all the bruisesTourniquet leaking on her sidesBleeding beauty petrifiedDo you know how she died.
Layne DamagedChapter 1 I had been planning this trip for years. Six years, to be exact. Research, studying, practicing my methods, collecting extra money, finally getting my drivers license by age eighteen. That took for fucking ever. And there I was, a week before the trip, about to go into a completely different kind of trip."Cough syrup
like legal acid," John said, opening his bottle of purple. "Cough syrup," I argued, "like what I take when I'm sick." I flipped my hair out of my face to take the first gross gulp of purple, liver-murdering shit. I thought for a moment about my hair and how recognizable it would make me; blonde hair with bla
JonathanI never want you to need to cryIf I can't seem to be perfectRemember I wanted to dieAnd you decided I'm worth itYou already handled the worstSo just prepare for the bestLike finding a pearlIn the middle of a messWe feel desperationAnd we feel it togetherDangerous way of frustrationAnd it will get betterIf I have anything at all to do with itBelieve me, forgive me, I will love you foreverNothing will ever be missingYou won't need anyone elseI didn't say no one was thereI just know no one is listening.
My RabbitI want to go awayWill you dare meThese things scare meI'm locked in a cageAnd it's made of rageMade of tears, made of joy, made of youThey don't know who to put that blame toI'm locked up in my brainEverything is so greyYou chased my rabbit awayI'll kill youHow dare youSometime he'd be redSometime he'd be whiteHe could always be brownOr little blue and roundHe made me alrightAnd now you're gone at nightYou chased him awayI'm alone nowI'll be alright somedayI need a soldier for my soulAnd what about when I'm in that wedding gownI wish I was in itBut I'm not right nowWill you dare meMy rab
Like SustenanceI have a sick feeling like sustanencesitting deep insidewhat keeps me really kills meand empty's hard to findone pill two pill three pill fourinsides fall out if I take morea sick feeling like sustanencemakes it hard to swallowand its a blessing as all I want is hollow.
Lock-Down MillionaireI don't know how to playand I don't know how to feelThat might have something to do with these pills I don't know how to addand I don't know how to count So they wrote me off as super smart somehowEmpty eyed bloody wrist Southern heir Credit card minimized lock-down millionaire I come from the stock market There's tinfoil on the windows but I still can't sleepNobody cares about the budget I keepI can't say I care.I don't know how to work and I don't know how to loveYou don't know who you just took that photo ofI don't know how to sleepand I don't know how to eatSo they locked me up and I cut my wrist with the keyEmpty eye
Suicide Hotline Butterfly .ch1.Suicide Hotline Butterfly I was rolling around in my swivel chair at the night-shift at the Suicide Hotline center, Butterfly, in our little city in Louisiana. We usually got more calls on the weekends and it was only a Wednesday so I was quickly restless. On nights like these, when you finally get a call, the ringing of the phone can really jar you. “Robin,” I heard from the door. I alerted myself and looked behind me at my supervisor, Daniel. He's a thin man in his mid-thirties, blonde hair usually but right below the ears. He avoids contact with me whenever possible.“Yes sir?”“Did Caleb clock in? I didn'