I am tearing at the seams,
Splitting into pieces,
My organs are falling out,
And I can no longer continue holding them in with fleeces.

My body aches when I'm awake I just want to sleep for ever.
Though it sounds bleak, I believe death could be a comforting endeavor.

I feel lonely when I'm surrounded by people.
I can no longer focus, my vision is blurred.
I am alienated and my mind is screaming that I am so absurd.

At times the music is just a whisper in the background, but other times it's so loud I drop to the ground, as if I am weightless and the wind is constantly throwing me all around.

I don't know what happy is, or maybe I just don't remember.
But the more I think about it, the more that I become tender.

Because there is still a taste of happy on the back of my tongue.
It feels forbidden, hidden beneath sour apple cider vinegar and peroxide showers.
A distant memory, like childhood, that I lust for daily.

I am ripping at strings, trying to pull myself  out of the grave that I've already dug for myself, but another force begs me to let go, to pull myself apart instead, and I'd be lying if I said I've never agreed.

              I want to feel.
I want to see.
           I am blind and I am drowning.
There is nothing I wish to be.
             But maybe I do wish.
  I wish to wanted.
      Because I no longer want to be thrown away

I am gasping for air, but all I need to do is scream.
I want to be heard, but nobody sees.
I'm so fucking hurt, but there's no hope for me.

Grasping at straws, like gripping on blades.
I'm through with putting myself on a leash, I just want to be free.
Free from my body, free from my mind, to break away from society, I want to look in the mirror and realize it's me who I'll find.

I'm going to die.
And I can't explain why.
15 years of life, and to that, I say goodnight.

                                        Ariah Christman