My hand, yes it hurts

but my mind hurts more.

Why do I write you ask?

Because I can't go back to how I was before. 

I can't afford to be that girl

Who feels the need to end it all.

And I'm afraid to go back there

to my dark room with built up walls. 

I can't go back to the dark days and darker nights. 

I can't hold this in, and that is why I write.