Amongst the boxes of my past
I never found anything just like this
Similarities of pain and weakness
But nothing quite like this

Pictures of hanged men
Alongside paintings of sky
Old soft toys, hoarding
What little there is left

Hidden inside
Sealed, unseen
Suicide notes and
Ramblings of pain

Journal of everything
but normal
scribbled drawings
of macabre marionettes

meaningless pages of obscurity
dots, cartoons and smiley faces
fooling myself I am happy
veiled are the pages of tears and blood drops

curled up in a duvet
staring wide-eyed
a million thoughts
creating havoc

life, a canvas
a mismatch of paints
a pink sky
of blood and clouds