These Four Walls, and Me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the thinking cap is brimful,

I seize the deceiving lifeline they offer.

They hint at the cold world beyond

So I fixate, and the dark clouds appear

Slashing because pain is pleasure

No roses, no well-wishes

Just these four walls, and me.

 

So I close my eyes and play out the scenes,

How words cut deeper than the sharpest edge,

Head buried in my palms, happy I can’t be.

So I give to myself, what I deserve

Slashing because pain is healing,

No hugs, no reassuring faces 

Just these four walls, and me.

 

When too much is indeterminable,

I sit in my blood bath.

Carving scars like I’m making a masterpiece,

Adding to the collection, like it’s some hobby,

Slashing because pain is unreal

No light in my world, no more zeal for life

Just these four walls, and me

 

When I go six feet under,

They will remember.

Autumn leaves on my grave, a reminder,

Of what was once upright, green with colour

A tree, once tall, no more it stands.

No more life, there was no love,

When it was four walls, and me.