Fix Me

It’s started again.
The chants.
The words.
The pain.
The emptiness.
I see the stares.
I see the bullies.
I see through their eyes.
I see through their words.
I wake up in a daze.
I look in the mirror.
Slut.
Bitch.
Freak.
Victim.
No one listens.
No one sees.
The scars a prominent;
beneath my sleeves.
I can’t wait to feel the pain.
It’s the only real thing.
I’m seventeen.
I wish to be dead.
I’m scared to say anything.
I’m tired of running.
I hide away in a shell.
Hiding from this hell.
Fake smile.
Fake happiness.
Real pain.
The music is there.
The words singing a lullaby.
The blade pierces my skin.
One more.
One more.
One.
More.
I am crying now.
The texts keep coming.
You deserve to die.
Close your legs skank!
Psycho bitch.
Freak.
Wow! 3 guys in one weekend! What about me?
I sit in my room.
Alone.
Silence.
Emptiness.
I am thinking about it.
The pills taunt me.
Sing for me.
Cry for me.
Yearn for me.
I turn my phone off.
I smile one last time.
The words they said are lingering in my heart.
They linger and weigh upon every other spoken hurt.
I stare at the bottle.
Then I remember there’s vodka.
I decide to drink tonight.
Get high tomorrow.
Cut tomorrow, too.
I sing the song of intoxication.
No music tonight can do it.
I take a few more sips.
It burns.
The burn of being a failure.
I grin as the alcohol flows through me tonight.
I’ll feel the small joy tonight.
I’ll let the voices fade for a moment.
I’ll let it fix me tonight.
Tonight I will be happy and drunk.
Tomorrow I’ll be happy and high.
No one can fix me.