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The first chapter of Malum, the story I've been working on since June with a friend, is now released to the public! Feel free to check it out in the link below and maybe even join the server to become part of the community if you want to!! Any and all interaction is appreciated and I hope to create a somewhat big community to grow with the story!

Clawing at my cage Dying my hair from pink to sage Ripping at my skin Tearing apart from within

Cutting my hair every day Changing myself in every way Acting like a cunt All while hoping you'll see my front

Screaming every night Constantly trying to pick a fight Provoking you as often as I can

Look at me Look at me Look at me Look at me

To love me is to suffer me Hold my head under the water while I struggle Watch the bubbles surface to the air as I beg Beg for you to let go Beg for your love Beg for you to forgive me

To love me is to suffer me Slam my head into the wall when we argue Watch the paintings fall and crack Crack like the skin on my head Crack like the plaster on the thin wall Crack like my skull as you slam me

To love me is to suffer me Punch me in my face when I disobey Watch my teeth fall out while I cry Cry for my loss Cry for being worthless Cry for getting my blood and teeth on your floor

I leaned on you at first, Thinking this wouldn't be the worst. Believing that quiet dependence, Wouldn't end in a prison sentence.

You said I could stay there, Or maybe you just said you didn't care. But your silence felt enough— For me to believe that this would never be so rough.

So I rested more of myself, On your shoulders, like a shelf. Placing small pieces of weight, On your already heavy slate.

At first nothing changed, And things were perfect and arranged. There were no shifts in the ground. There was just peace all around.

Then slowly I saw, The tension in your jaw. As if every word from me, Wasn't allowing you to be free.

Your pauses grew long, Like you had to wait until you were strong.

So I began learning, The language of restraint.

I loosened my grip, to save you from the task, Of having to ask.

I slit my wrist

And it bled All over the bed

The white turned to pink The sheets drank it in like they did the ink

I sniffed in its scent It smells used and spent

My blood is fresh and raw The sight alone leaves people with a hanging jaw

The people who wound us, Get no say in how we clean up the blood. They don't get to comment and fuss, Because they're not the ones cleaning this mess, getting down on their knees to scrub— The stains off their own heart, Like the words spoken to them hadn't torn them apart.

These people have no say, In which way we cope with the pain, Because they're not the ones left feeling grey, And they're certainly not the ones bruised and left with a stain, Yet they feel the need to butt in, Like I'm not already struggling to cope within.

I rolled up my sleeves

I traced my skin

I sliced myself outwards—

Hoping it would reach something deep within

I let the cold razor taste my blood

Praying it would taste love

The love I have for you

So I know what we have is true

And what I'm feeling now is in my head

But then I woke up

My heart racing, chest pacing, as I sat up in my bed

And I went about my day once more

Hiding the new marks I added

And where do I begin, With the fact my very being should be a sin? Or, shall I start at the end, Where I threw my life into the mixer and watched it blend?

Shall I tell you the real story, Or is that far too deep and gory? Can you not handle the truth buried deep inside my heart? Were your promises of being able to handle me at my best and worst just fables you told me because you thought you were being smart?

How about I tell you of the blade, Or the garden spade. The blood that trickles down my thighs every night. The bruises I made, hoping it would get your attention and stop every petty fight.

Do you know how hard I cry? And don’t even bother to ask me why. I think if I knew the answers I wouldn’t be searching my skin, Or hiding razors at the bottom of the bin.

Would you stay if you knew the truth? That I've always been this way, even in my youth. I'm unstable like a hurricane, except I don't smooth out, I always have a storm within, begging to be let out.

You ruined me baby Completely and utterly fucking ruined

You twisted and turned me You kissed and burned me

I held your hand like a lovesick fool But you held mine like another tool

We danced and swayed But you just counted how much you'd paid

I'm a bill I'm the bill you won't pay yet, because you haven't had your fill

And that's okay Please, stay

Let me falsely caress your hair Let me gaze into those eyes that I think look back with love, but actually stare

Let me be ignorant and free Please will you allow me to be me?

I know I don't fit your vibe But can I give you a bribe?

How about you become my wife Fool me into thinking you're mine for life!

It's a done deal Now let's kiss and call it a seal.

Oh I'm a fool And you're oh so cruel

I thought by now you would know I thought you saw me grow I thought you would prove to me, show— How you care How you make things fair

But I was wrong And we sing a completely different song I don't know the words But you all chirp it together like birds

I've never accepted cash

I didn't want your stash

But you begged and pleaded

Fuck, you made me feel needed

So I took your filthy money

It felt sweet and loving, just like honey

But it soon turned sour

Within less than an hour

Thrown back in my face just like my race

Along with my heritage, and fuck, my accent too at that

You laugh, you tease, you giggle, you joke

But dare I start to poke

And suddenly I'm to stupid, annoying, mean, a hateful bloke

But did you ever look at me?

Did you ever fucking see?

Have you ever opened your god damned eyes to see how I've been treated

Sure they act nice and try to welcome me by making me feel greeted

But wheres my wambulance when I leave?

Why doesn't everyone start to grieve?

Because they don't fucking care

It's her world and I'm just empty space in it

One, two, heave. The numbers I count as I weave— My hands through my hair, While trying to provide my malnourished body some tender, love and care.

Four, five, six. My hands tremble as I look through my notes for my list of tricks. How to stop the trembling, How to stop hics.

Seven, eight nine. Lie and say I'm fine. Despite the fact I'm, yet again, bent over the loo. It's not like this position is unfamiliar or new.

Ten, eleven, twelve. My eyes begin to water as I reach up for the shelf. My stomach churns as the acid burns— The back of my throat, but at least I've lost the bloat.

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. I smooth out my clothes and begin to lean— Against the wall to try and return to 'normal', Because in this life, I must remain formal.

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. The mirror looks back at me and whispers, "Unclean." My fingers tremble with the weight of what I've just done, But this is what I need to do to continue having 'fun'.

A theme in a story A story from a book A book from a man Who was clearly off the hook

I scoff and laugh at the name on the page Nowadays, people would much prefer a name like Sage

My eyes brim with tears As her nightmares draw nears But who am I to help this girl on a page Who's not from a time of this age

Then comes the man The man from a show A show from a novel A novel that somehow made me grovel

My eyes were first wide and glued Because I got to see this man on the screen, fresh and renewed

But the same themes came to play The same ones that made me look away

Your hands brush my skin And I shiver within

You raise an eyebrow and give me a glare Which causes the others to stare

I laugh and tug on my sleeve While we enter the crowd and begin to weave

Long, loud, lanky, ginger Crooked, crutches, cricked, injure

I hear a gasp, followed by a stare But I tug past them, acting like I don't care

You turn around and ask what that was about But I pretend I can't hear you over every other shout

You know, I know, we both know, we all know But deep down, I won't change, and we won't grow

I saw you look at my scars I saw you ignore them and pretend to look at cars

I saw your eyes widen at the bloody bandage But you know telling someone would only give me a disadvantage

So you tell no one because you're not that bold And in the end, my pain goes untold

But rising in my gut is that awful feeling That becomes more intense as the scabs start peeling

What if you do tell someone? What if you crack? What if they come to my door and start to attack?

But the feeling goes away as soon as you promise you won't And in the end, I'll promise to get help, but we both know—