24 Hours

My skin is the only thing that's whole

It's the only thing that's keeping all my shattered pieces floating in the same space.

There's a one sided window between you and I and my side is the one that's clear.

You can't see me.

You can't see everything.

You can't see my clogged tear ducts and the golf ball sized hole in my heart.

Fun fact: it's been leaking for so long that it's almost empty.

Half of me has decided to give the world nothing but my middle finger and the other half has decided that the bottom of the ocean is a safe place and there's comfort in the silence.

Drowning myself in the sound is what matters now. The reason I listen to it is because I'm trying to find something that sounds like the depth of the darkness in my veins and behind my skull and down my throat.

They've got me convinced weight is more than a number, weight is a factor on how much you're worth.

The number of lips you've met with your own is a mark of experience rather than the amount of how much you've cared.

The slits on your wrist are a measurement of how broken you are rather than a method of coping.

Truth isn't something freely given and I 'can't handle it' and pain isn't something (most) people like voluntarily inflicting.

Would you like to know what I am ?

I am a cold harsh winter in which countless people die of frostbite and hypothermia. I am the look on a mother's face as she watches her child take his last breath before succumbing to illness. I'm the first time someone digs a knife into their wrist, trying to dig out the poison in their veins. I'm what drives a person to write a final goodbye and string themselves up.

I'm what happens when you choke down darkness that's too much to handle.

I'm the end and pain and war and suffering.

I am disease. I am innocence. I am loss.

I am made of shadow.