Bright lights White lights Nowhere to hide lights. 16 and you’re all alone. 16 and you have no idea how much it’s ever hurt.
16 and you’re sitting in a hospital room with only sterilised blue walls for company. You’re a rare case they say. You shouldn’t have lived through that.
Bright lights And you hear your mother scream.
Nowhere to hide lights And they’re listing off all the things that have been done to your body since birth.
It’s like you’re suffocating, walls closing in, the doctors staring at you like you’re a walking miracle and everything is just too much.
Abused? My mother chokes like the very idea is nauseating to her. But her and I both know Her and I both know what happens when it’s past 8 on a school night
Like it isn’t obvious with the train tracks running down my arm. My splintered spleen and punctured lung, crushed bones and well placed punches. It’s all there in black and white
It’s all there in black and white All there waiting to be examined in full glory.
But it’s not why we’re here now. Twice in one year one says. Think of getting her sectioned says the other.
Suicide watch, says the third.
Bright lights White lights Nowhere to hide lights.
You breathe in You breathe out.
7 years on and every single day is a struggle But every day, you wake up, you get up, you move around and inhale life,because even through all that, somehow you’re still hanging on for more.