dried up paint

Scraping dried up paint from under my fingernails
With a 2H
Writing shit with too many details
Its getting late

Lying down by my book
Kept company by my pencils
And my phone
But its only decoration right now

I love it when an addiction is just decor
I could be using it but I wouldn’t know what for
To pick you up
To start to scroll
But I don’t
To want to drink
A glass of wine
But I wont

To smoke a cigarette, to think about you...
But I do


I love it when I write
Because nothing really means anything
Apart from one word at a time
And everyone thinks it does
That theres a theme or a deeper meaning
That I thought about before I finished it
I didn’t
There isn’t
Its just me talking in my head
If my brain could talk
Its just the shit it woulda said
I find meaning in my writing
But I don’t write with meaning
I write with a pencil
And dried up paint

oh

Her feet sway slightly
Lifeless
All the blood goes there to die
Her knees are getting bluer
Her skin begins to cry

She used to be so mighty
Now lifeless her legs lie

But her mind is spinning circles
Her eyes as blue as the sky
Watch out onto the open
She still holds her head high

She sits upon the window sill
Pins and needles moving up into her thigh
And she thinks to herself
Ive been sat here for a while

Evolve

Evolution kicks in when everything is nearly extinct

and dies

I’ve died so many times

Too many failed tries

Was I dying, or just trying

to change my life

Because it did, and I grew stronger and kinder and weaker where I need

And I learnt so many lessons I am now able to teach

I came so far, places I never thought I’d reach

I don’t think I really wanted it to end

I just wanted it to all be different

and different… it is

Taylor

With many failed attempts behind me, I still struggle everyday and night, but I know how much I have not only helped myself but others. I am proud of having the courage to share my past, because I’m making a change in the future. Who knows if I can save myself, or someone else, but I will live everyday as a support for people who need it, giving out the advice I cant always give to myself. I hope my story doesn’t end soon, because darkness is beautiful and strong.

My purpose

And I will drown myself in water

Because they have taken away the pills

And the alcohol

I will pour everything I can down the sink

Because my blood no longer flows from my skin

They took away the blades

But they didn’t take away the pain within

I will deafen myself with music because they no longer let me scream

Because screaming is a cry for help and I don’t want it

I don’t want to get better because this is what I know

I don’t want to change because I’ve never been a better writer than right now

But even now im still shit

And I don’t know how else to deal with pain

Of the lack of it

I know I should feel upset but all I feel is inspiration

I know I should be angry, but all I see is words

And all I hear is words

That might not rhyme

But my god do they sound good to me

So I’m sorry for what I’ve caused or what feelings this ignites within you

But maybe that’s my purpose

And I’m really looking for things to keep me alive

So if that’s the one

Then I’ll take what I can get

I was young

I was young and dumb

it started by carving my hand

with the nail on my thumb

But then I started etching my doodles

into my skin

Before I knew what self-harm was

I had no way of stopping it

It started as art

then became a control

Controlling depression

Trying to lessen

Never learning the lesson

On how else do I deal with all this shit unless I can show it

You need battle scars to prove your battle

So I make them

And I use them as a diary

I can trace each one back to a day or an episode

I can remember how shit I felt

And I can see that I have no fresh ones

Theres a lot of bare skin

So there must be something coming

There must be something on its way

But it’s been so long now

And nothings changed

Have I left it all behind?

Or will I fall again

My story

Once upon a time there was a girl

Who suddenly felt sad

And glad

That she just took those 12 paracetamol, 3 sleeping pills and 2 tranquillisers

At the age of 12

She loved the blood that covered her bruised knuckles

And the way her body was now filled with scars and open slits

She remembered the time

At the age of 15

When she woke up in hospital, tangled in tubes

Because she took enough to knock her out this time

Whose scars people still mistake for stretch marks

There was a girl who worked so hard to be able to write her story

From the outside

I am girl who was that girl

But that girl is no longer me

Because I know its my story but I no longer identify with her even though we share our memories

I love my scars because they show me how far I have come, not because of the empty space between them

I love my mind because they let me know theres still miles to run, not all the ways and days until I end it

I always told myself I would kill myself successfully before I’m 18… I’m 18 now

Im starting a new story, but this one takes place in another land

With a different girl

I knew I wouldn’t make it past 18, and I am so glad that that me didn’t.

Taylor

Fear

I fear… the inevitable

The ups the downs the all arounds

I fear what will happen next

I fear the rope that ties itself

Tightly ’round my neck

But this is not inevitable

This will not happen

I have changed

I am changing with each day

And I no longer see death as an exit

I no longer see my life as a play

That I can just quit

I am scared of being better

But that’s why I am scared, today

Taylor

First part is a little extract from a poem I wrote, and second part is how that no longer is me, I no longer believe that I will be in pain forever, I no longer see life as a burden, or myself as a burden. But being better is scary, its scary to think that one day everything you’ve worked for could all fade away.

I know I can’t but I’ll try

I’m sorry for saying I was okay 

I’m sorry for wiping off my tears 

And brushing it all away 

I’m sorry for not warning you 

Of all that I was 

 and all I could do 

See, I’m a fucking monster 

Made out of hate and lies 

From the pile of regret 

And constant despise  

of myself 

But for me there was no cure 

Just things to hold it off 

But I never felt secure 

See the pills took away my hunger 

And deprived me of my sleep 

I guess I wasn’t suicidal 

Because tired and hungry was all I could be 

They took my passions away

They told me it would only make it worse 

But paintings of people in pain 

Made my pain feel less like a curse  

So I’ve come to the conclusion 

That I’ll never be okay 

Ill just have to get through the years 

Day by day 

And I know I cant do it 

But trust me ill try 

To stay alive

Taylor

This is an old poem, 2-3 years ago. I don’t agree with this mindset anymore but at that time I had a bad experience with antidepressants, and people judged my artwork, for being black and white and scary. I was filled with this self-hatred, which made me judge others who were enjoying their time. Its a very personal poem, that I could rant about each little meaning, but I’ll leave that for another day. 🙂