Tired Nights

dark skin closes over my eyes ringlets darker than wet curls stay open, i plead with them my wrists rest on the keyboard red and sore, covered by lace black gloves my feet tap the bed, skin brushing against the soft fabrics pink nails masked in darkness black flaking off day by day, like my good mood tight jeans cover my legs skinny jeans their called a dark silk shirt dips into cleavage covered only by the gray hoodie i have half zipped up and the multiple silver chains that hand off my neck too much eye liner i was told, blends into my eyes showing my exhaustion more than planned my blond red hair, thrown up sloppily in a ponytail bands still hang down, partial to covering my face my eyes, look out, zoned out, clear, almost glassy i tap anxiously, and listen to my father play the guitar its calming, my favorite, sad song my head feels weighed down, just as my body feels stiff chains hang off of my wrists, and my belt my rainbow and black colored belt again today i was called emo i shrugged it off, too use to hearing it by now to care i force myself to eat, though the food i consume makes me feel sick again i breath, shallow breaths, and count, while reminding myself what therapy says, what doctors say, two groups of untrustworthy people "in through the nose, out through the mouth" about the only advise ill hear from them i breath, trying to clear away the pounding noise within my head though my surroundings are peacefully quiet i think, even though the effort to make my mind do anything at the moment is great shhhhh, i whisper to my thoughts allowing pictures to take the place of words and still carry my prayers to god