Happy birthday ! You've made it . Another year of joy and happiness . Blow out your candles , make a wish . But not like last years . Inhaled the air you wished you weren't breathing . Just to wish that you weren't doing it again this year . Wishing that it will all be over . That you can feel . Feel more than just the emptiness . Your deep into a hole , with no light . A hole where you can't climb out of . As you so desperately try to climb out the depression you consume and acknowledge on a day to day basis . You feel as if you are in a box . But it's not a gift . It was forcefully given . For you to keep . Hold and withstand alone . You are meant to hold that box and place yourself in it . You are wrong out of it . Theres no escaping . No candles . No wishes that could cause you better . Happy Birthday ! You've granted me another year of misery . Another year of pain . Tearing apart layers of my skin to feel . Wishing to feel love again . Love hotter than the flames against my face as I wish to be happy. or dead . Happy birthday . See you again next year . Hopefully its the last .

Every little girl has a dream growing up. Either if its being nurses . Becoming lawyers . Maybe even being ballerina . My dream was having a mommy. A mommy that could hold me when times got hard . A mommy who could listen and not back lash on your mistakes in life . I mean we're all young right ? Maybe even care enough to call me beautiful . Remind me of something i'm blind to , all because my insecurities eat away at the confidence i once condoned . Every little girl needs a mother - and damn it I needed you .

Oh god what'd i'd do to feel again. Back when a hug warmed your body as your skin touched mines . I loved it . When your i love you's touched my heart to where i could feel it in my core . The sensation was as if you where the chills thats rushed down my spine just from the thought of you . When i could feel the compassion when you told me i was beautiful. I wanna feel again.

At a young age I was taught that my body was my own individual canvas that only I had the power to paint upon. I went from dresses and skirts to graphics and baggy jeans to hide my body . To my mother any exposure of the skin wasn't the fondest .

I was taught that my body was my own canvas . Yet you managed to paint every picture you thought was picture perfect. The picture was always "perfect" but never painted to your satisfaction. It was a perfect picture but I never seemed worth the perfection to meet your contentment .

I was taught my body was my own canvas . I was never allowed to paint . Now i'm left to learn how to paint over it . paint over the pain . Although you told me my body was my own canvas , you never let me get close to the brush. All I ever wanted was my own painting . Painted to my fulfillment. My satisfaction never was valid , only yours .

I thought my body was my own canvas .

Every word that rolled off his tongue dripped like honey off its comb . she had a sweet tooth for every lie he told her. she had cavities deeper than her past. Her roots intertwined and tangled just like her feelings for him. She craved his sweetness , she felt it was like no other. She had jars of his honey stored away sealed tighter than the love she refused to let go. . She was stuck in a honey trap he set for his satisfaction . She never understood why he always gave her a suga rush in which filled her cavities and made her feel whole. She was a suga rush addict who couldn’t let go.