lies my parents told me...

You've been sinking for a while now, weighed down by that anchor they've tied around your waist; pulled down by disappointment and disapproving eyes. You're gasping for air, praying for something to hold onto; something to pull you from the burning wreckage that has become your life. That line of trust could have reeled you in, kept you afloat, if you hadn't severed it with the scars on your wrists. So now you're left drifting out to sea, buried under waves of regret and failed attempts at second chances. They'll keep  watching from afar, safe on that solid ground they built from all those wasted hopes and expectations you never managed to fulfill. 

Itches and urges, and rows and lines, keeping time on my skin like the last 6 years have been nothing but a dream that I’ve finally woken from.

4 years down the drain, like it never mattered anyway.