Happiness is

Just something fake

Because not matter what

You’re smiling

And just so filled with joy

And then something

Like the equivalent

Of a ton of bricks just

Falls onto your head

And knocks you over

And there’s a voice saying

“I really hope you can hold all this weight, darling,”

But something inside of you

Just snaps

And then to take care of all of this extra weight

You’ve got to relive some of it

You’ve got to take some of this weight off

And so the only way to

Make this possible it seems

Is to slice your perfect little bare wrist

Because it’s so delicate

And perfect

And lost

Beneath all the scars

That it needs to feel the pain too

And while your telling it to

Somehow feel like you do

You’re really taking all that blood

That’s just streaming off of it

As a way to

Take some of that weight of pain off your shoulders

Because it’s weighing you down

Until you just crack

From all the pressure

Of that ton of bricks

And then,

Without any warning

Thought

Or reason

Blackness comes

Which somewhat manages to sneak up on you

And surprise you

That all of the inky darkness

Was just all your fault

And all of a sudden,

You come to.

And you’re not in a hospital bed

With a beeping of a heart monitor

(You wish you could thank God that this hasn’t happened, but you find you don’t really believe in Him anymore)

But just in your own pain

And you’re just drowning

In the sea of hurt

And the phone rings

So you cradle your broken wrist on with your other hand

And drop it like it’s not worth it

To go and pick the annoying sound up

That will only make it so that you’re sobbing with more and more blood

Dripping onto the carpet

That your mother will ask you about when she gets back from the hospital

With your sister

And she just tells you on the phone that their favorite child is doing so much better now

And all you can say is cheerfully

“That’s good, Mom.”

Because she keeps crying

And you’re just sobbing

With the only tears you can muster up

(Blood)

And you wish you can be held in her arms

As she tells you it’s all going to be okay

And then you just whisper

That’s you’re just a carbon copy

Of the screwed up sister

That’s at the hospital

Because her wrists are bleeding

And her senses are going crazy

(She’s bipolar now, right?)

Only your mom just can’t take it

And so all that you manage

Is “Call me back when there’s news, kay?”

And as she responds,

You stare at all the blood

(There shouldn’t be that much blood)

In a sad attempt

To tune her out

And God, she finally just whispers

“I’m scared, Ally”

And that’s it.

You’re breaking on the inside

Just shattering into tiny pieces

Because for once

You’d like to be the daughter

And have her be the mother.

Only you just know she couldn’t take that

And all you want to do

Is just talk to someone

(But no one’s there)

And all you say is

“I know, Mommy, I know.”

You’re saying it for your benefit

As well as hers

Because you’re scared to death

And you’re just praying

That you don’t pass out from all the blood

And finally she tell you good-bye

And you can’t help it

The second you hang up the phone,

You need to cry

And you go up the stairs

And into the bathroom

And take your razor

And sob.

Only this time, it’s with tears.

A/N- I really have no idea why I’m posting this, because it’s not really a poem, more of a ramble. And just to let you know, this is a true story, so please don’t flame me and tell me I’m cliché.