Therapist

"You never know why your exhausted. You're fighting a war inside your head every single day. If that's not exhausting I don't know what is." The therapist replied back.

She asked him if he was happy, In which he didn't know how to reply. Yet he replied truthfully, "What is happiness to you? . . . What does it mean to be happy? I don't think I know what true happiness is."

"Don't get me wrong I have laughed and I have smiled. . . But that hasn't  happened in a long while. I think I was happy once. But now I just don't know." His voice carried over the broken sorrow of a child abused for so many countless years. 

"I don't remember when I truly meant the smile or laugh. I don't remember when I felt it and meant it, meant the laugh, or smile and didn't force it. Now I have to wake up and drown my sorrow with, "make it better," Pills to fake perfection."

"I have to paint on a smile, and fake a laugh. As if the things from the day before don't carry trauma. As if my life is a freaking fairy-tale, with little birds flying about and singing their songs. Pretend as if I am okay, but I'm not. And I am sorry."

"I am so sorry, I might not have scars on my hands or arms. But my mind is bruised, my heart is beaten, and my soul is defeated. People tell me I'm perfect and I should be happy. . . But I can't. It hurts that I can't be what everyone want's me to be."

"Or what anyone needs. It hurts that I Can't be what I want; What I need. Because I'm not good enough, And I never will be! I'll never even be close to enough. And it hurts, It hurts so bad. I'm Broken, My god, I am broken." 

His lips begin to quiver and tears began to build up around his eyes, bursting forth like water from a dam. There is static in his head once again, the side effects of his constant fear; Constant stress. His walls that once made him strong, come crashing down. 

"You are not broken, You are breaking through. Feelings are just visitors and you have to let them go, You need to look in the mirror, and comfort the demons."

"You hate when people see you cry because you want to be strong. But then at the same time you hate that no one notices how torn you are. Your bruises are covered by the smile on your face. Your tears drown out the blood lost yesterday."

"And I am so sorry that the world has broken you down to believe that you are nothing, but by all means you are something.  You can recover from all that has happened to you! Your so willing to feel it, your so close to healing it."

"Sometimes healing comes it waves, and other times healing is going to hit rocks. And that is perfectly okay, because you are still healing. You are not alone."

I Feel

Some days I feel as if there are a thousand galaxies exploding in every fiber of my being, and my light shines brighter then the sun. 

And other days I feel as though I am so small, my existence can slip between atoms and disappear forever not even a mere thought.

Sometimes I feel like the Mona Lisa, carefully crafted with delicate hands, beloved by all, fragile and could easily be torn apart; To delicate to be touched.

And sometimes I feel as if each cell in my body is made of the strength that bonds the planet together. And that is okay, because I am made of stardust and minuscules.

I am made of breakable bones, and every building block in the universe. And I am to alive to feel anything less than human.

Empty

I'm so done with empty words, and broken promises. I've had it with the meaningless apologies, tired of the dumb excuses. Exhausted of putting in more effort then I receive; I just want to get away. 

I wanted you to fix me, and you only broke me some more. So tell me, Where do we go from there? What messes me up the most, is the fact that you knew exactly what I've been through. You promised to be different; and ended up being the same. 

And if you wanted to leave then you should have told me why, because nothing in the world hurts more then knowing I wasn't worth an explanation. And now I carry this sad feeling around like a cape, and I don't know why. 

And I wanted to be skinny until you could see my bones, and now I don't understand why. When a hug could snap my bones and an autumns breeze could blow me away. You wouldn't love me anymore even if there was less of me, it wouldn't make you stay. 

The Day You Left Me

The moon split in half, the stars began to crumble and fall like fireworks at my feet.  The sun hid my face, I didn't want the world to see me cry. My tear drops burned holes into reality,

 and I lost all my desire to shine.

 I remember when you told me you didn't love me anymore, it was nine twenty-four, you said you didn't like the way I swore, I was a bore and so much more. You told me I had started

 a war, but in reality you had started one in my core. So I decided to close the door and ignore, for all you wanted was an easy score. 

I still remember the haze, and the tears that filled up my eyes, you empty heartily said you were sorry as you told me your last goodbye. You didn't mean to make me cry, you didn't mean to leave me asking myself, Why?

I still remember how we met, and how you weren't such a slime in those early times. You didn't want to commit the ultimate crime, to take the climb into my heart. I should have known from the start, that you only were going to rip me apart. I guess I wasn't smart, I take that on my part, but look at me now. . . I'm writing all this art.