Why Don't I Write You A Poem

Sick

I get high from this sickness.
Have faith with no witness.
I've failed to prevent this.
Go ahead, tell me I'm sick.

I know.
I know you know.
I want to stay but,
I have to go.
This chase is toxic and chronic.
Demonic.
I can't get away from myself.
I'm too tired to run.
I keep telling myself I can ask for help.
Maybe I need a crutch,
But I look in the mirror.
Its all too much.

Maybe I don't deserve this.
Maybe I've learned from this.
Maybe I shouldn't dismiss,
The dark thoughts.
I'm so cold but if I've picked up what I've been taught,
I know to keep running.
My blood still runs warm in my body.
Maybe if I wasn't a freak I could reach out to somebody!
How many people do you know can sweat and shiver at the same time?
It's fine, I wont share my addiction.
You won't know the neglecting,
Or who you're affecting.
You won't feel an ache, or need to constantly sleep.
You won't get massive headaches or get hooked on caffeine.
If you can be protected then you should run to protection.
I'm scared of my own mind.
No, the voices are not kind.
Pitiful,
I'll never let myself be cured of this illness.
This curse won't make you strong,
No,
This curse will make you worse.
You'll never see your family.
You'll never see your worth.
I'll never be happy with my own reflection.
I'll never finish my projects or shake these addictions.
I'll never get rid of the scars, I'll make more til I'm empty.
I'll be your shelter in this storm, don't wait for me.

I'll never be empty so I numb all these feelings.
Can't cry anymore so I guess I'll start singing.
Hopefully I can create lyrics with meaningful phrases,
Or merge my own pain to lessen suicide cases.
I hate all the hurt that I see,
I will take it.
I can't feel a damn thing,
But I'll sure as hell fake it.

Is that my voice?
Is that what you hear?
I hear demons in my head.
I'm afraid to fear.
I say I can't take this but I'm lying,
I can.
If I couldn't withstand it I'd have a fucking plan!
Instead I lay in my bed until I'm forced onto my feet.
The devil makes his calls,
He hunts down all the weak.
I'm so glad I have a family,
I'm glad I'm not alone
But the people that I know have families of bones.
They get sick from the hunger and sick from the panic.
I hold out my hand but they won't fucking take it.
So I lift them over my shoulder and walk til I bleed.
Tell me to let go but this warmth is all I need.
So I feed off the good times and bathe in your sanity.
And push you away everytime you get close to me.
And I get addicted to the attention and the laughter but,
Not everyone's life ends happily ever after.

I can't take back what I've done,
And I know I've done wrong.
So why not embrace it and just go along?
With these bad thoughts and
Bad cuts, and
Cold spots, and
Empty plates that won't fill,
So I can't eat.