Do you know what I am thinking?
Do you really what to know?"
Do you see it as an importance?
I don't
Probably because a majority of the time I don't even what to know
So why should you?
I don't see a point in you wanted to waste your time
Reading my thoughts
Going through these forgotten files
Of forgotten memories
That have of course
Been repressed
Because I hate them
But they don't leave
Every time I look for a way to forget them
An excuse to not remember the Hell of what they call life
They come back
In the masses
They come back
When I sleep
When it's quiet
When something reoccurs
Something reminds me of it
And I get quiet
And cold
Needed a reason
To take my thoughts off of it
But I don't see any
Nor do I look
Because they get stronger
And stronger
Soon they take over my actions
And my communication slurs
My actions become shallow
My hands become tense
Yet shaking
My head begins to spin
I become cold
But my body is warming
Tears begin to draw
I grip whatever I can
Tightly
And if there is nothing
I grip my wrist
My leg
My scars
Where I cut
Where I had burned
And wishing to forget it all
By giving me something new to think about
But I couldn't
I can't
So instead
I suffer
And I write
Or draw
Or find some reason to talk
To forget it
But It's still there
Waiting
Waiting to strike
Shoot me down again
I hope someone will be there
Somewhere
So I don't do something
Something
...
Drastic
To end those thoughts
Because I can't handle them anymore
And I sure as Hell
Know you're not liking my thoughts
Because I had them before
But there still there
Give me something new to think about
To keep my mind of of that
A new topic
A new thought
A new something
...
So what's up?