Two years.

Two years;

It’s going on almost two years now since I finally got sober.

Yet it still hangs over my head like a thundercloud and I wonder will it ever be over?

Would you still have asked me where that needle went if I’d never let the needle own me?

Is it really still so easy to warp my picture once again into one of a junkie?

No one puts a needle in their arm because they love themselves,

No one puts a needle in their arm just cause they love getting high,

I proved myself wrong when I put the needle down,

I did some serious growing from then until now..

But when the question leaves your mouth

“What happened to the needle that was in this box?”


You must really think I’m dumb as rocks.

I can buy a pack of ten for a dollar at the Walmart neighborhood market pharmacy.

They wouldn’t ask me any questions it’s been two years but they may even still recognize me.

Why would I steal your mom’s autoinjector from your fridge.

I’m so disappointed I’m pouring gasoline and preparing to burn this bridge.

In my life I haven’t accomplished anything that I set out too,

But when I put down the needle I did something I didn’t think I could ever truly do.

And no one can take that away from me;

Especially not you.

Written and owned by d3licate


They say the people we dislike the most, are usually the ones we most resemble.

It’s easier to act like you’re better and call them annoying; then it is to look in the mirror.


Something everyone sees that you do.

Well that is everyone but yourself when the one projecting is you..

You think you made me, but you didn’t help me not one bit.

Well, not to be a hypocrite, you might’ve helped a little bit..

But I’ve managed this light all on my own,

I kept taking life’s punches hit after hit.

beaten and bloody from the hand I was shown.

Life’s still beating me.

Most days I just want it all to stop,

I beg myself not to get back up, knowing one blow and I’m just going to drop.

I tell myself I can’t do it, I can’t do this anymore.

Searching for a way out and I can’t find a door so I just stay on the floor.

I guess when you’re fighting life; you know you won’t be leaving with it.

“well life’s not fair” blah blah blah; it’s all bullshit.

Life’s hard, and it hurts and guess what none of us will survive.

It’s not really a fight you win, it’s not a fight you’ll leave alive.

But how many rounds can you go?

How many times will you climb back up on your feet?

and what made your fight worth it?

Did you show bravery as you faced your defeat?

We’re fucking stuck here. We didn’t choose to be alive,

and there’s no instruction manual nothing to teach us how to survive.

We’re not good students we’d rather fight the truth than to learn,

and though happiness should be a given its something a lot of us have to fight to earn.

you don’t listen.

it goes into one ear straight through than back out,

You don’t like not having the answers it fills you up with insecurities and doubt.

You’re growing bitter; the angers turning you cold, and no one likes a quitter but the fight is getting old.

“it’s hard to be a light in the dark” because you can’t ever let down your guard,

but when it seems the darks got you sputtering out is when you’ll realize staying lits not that hard.

Theyre the ones fighting to put you out, meanwhile light is just who you really are.

But you can keep fighting, if that’s what you want, and while you’re losing to life; death will be on the sidelines to taunt.

Broken bones they heal, and cuts will fade out to a scar.

and someday down the road you will not find them when you tell the story of why you are who you are.

You aren’t special because you think you’ve had it all so much worse.

Inside every humans a narcissist who swears “no you don’t get it my life’s actually the worst”.

You aren’t cursed. God didn’t special pick you out of the pack and say your life’s going to be pure torture while I cut all the rest a little slack.

We’ve all been through shit and we all have our pride,

We all carry secrets that we’ve buried inside.

But it doesn’t make us stronger cause we’ve been through harder things,

What’s important is how many times did you keep getting up? how many times did you dodge his swings?

But if you’re a fighter and you’re refusing to sit down and learn.

Then suck the bad shit the fuck up, cause you agreed to eating shit and rug burn.

Written and owned by d3licate

Wouldn’t do a single thing any other way

I can’t remember if I’ve ever been quite this broke,

In more ways than one.

Watching my life as it goes up in smoke,

so ready to be done.

Cause they say not to fly too high, but when you’re soaring through the sky, it’s so very easy too get too close to the sun..

And I wonder if I could go back now knowing the cost,

Looking back at my mistakes and at all that I’ve lost,

Would I make different choices would I use what I’d learned?

Would I choose to soar lower now that I have been burned?

Would I choose to be different cause my skin it still burns..

Would it be any different if I took different turns?

In my dreams I see the faces of all I have scorned,

And all that I’ve lost, all the friends I have mourned..

In the past I’d be overcome, I’d fall to my knee,

Screaming at God, asking “damnit, why me?”

Back when I questioned him, “blessed or am I cursed?”

When life felt surreal like it’d all been rehearsed.

Deja vu, felt like I’d done this all before,

Vuja de so familiar but I’m just not quite sure..

Maybe I’m special or maybe I just personify,

Could it be supernatural, is there more to this than meets the eye?

Sometimes I think that all I know is a lie,

It makes it hard to get up, makes it so hard to try..

And though I don’t want to be like this, there’s so much I’ve overcome,

And though I see my reflection and do not like who I’ve become,

I’m not sure given the chance I’d change the choices I’d made,

All those times I could’ve left I think I still would’ve stayed.

Because if changing my choices meant changing who I am,

Then I’d do it all over again,


Because if changing my choices changed being with you today,

Then I wouldn’t do a single thing any other way.

Written and owned by d3licate

Living your life’s so much better than pretending..

Feels like I’m in slow motion, While the world’s on fast forward.

Like I’m stuck out in the deep end nose barely up above the water.

Lately I’ve been waking, drenched in sweat like I just showered.

Been ignoring my mom’s texts cause I don’t feel like a good daughter..

What’s the point in asking, we already know the answer.

Lately I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Can’t seem to change my ways, need to be rewired.

And I can’t accept that I’ve been standing still so long,

That moving now is not normal it’s what feels wrong.

I know I’m almost ready,

My gears begin to shift,

But my direction isn’t steady,

Parts of my mind still ripped..

How do I keep going,

How do I move on from here?

It kills me the ” not knowing”,

Paralyzes me with fear.

Here’s a wake up call;

We’re all unprepared,

It doesn’t make you less brave to admit you were scared.

Wake up call,

You will always find the strength,

And the importance of your journey isn’t defined by your stories length.

Keep writing your story,

Don’t fret so much over its ending,

Because living your life’s so much better in the end then just pretending..

Written and owned by d3licate

Sometimes I wish to be forgotten

I used to wish they’d all forget me..

So I wouldn’t feel their disappointment.

I couldn’t live up to the potential, that they all seemed to see in me..

I used to walk with purpose..

Even when I didn’t know what it was, it wasn’t lost, I just hadn’t found it yet,

But lately I’ve been aimless..

Too scared to jump, caught in the “helpless” net.

Because if I’m choosing to fail, somehow that’s not failing at all.

Feel like I’m wasting my life by not jumping I just anticipate the fall..

But if they say I’m a failure at least I chose to make that call..

Unfortunately for success, learned helplessness is a brick wall..

Lately I feel frozen, my life’s paused while the world’s on fast forward.

And Though nothings set in stone, isolations all I’m headed toward..

Feels like I’m giving my all but I can barely keep my grip..

To my sanity,

but the vibrancy,

of my smile starts to slip..

Not looking where I’m going keeps on causing me to trip..

And yet people I encounter always remark on my strength.

“How do you keep it together?”

Treading water while everyone else has just sank.

I’m not strong.

And life keeps on proving me right, when I wanted to be wrong..

I just wish they didn’t miss me..

I just wish that when they looked at me they could see the ugly..

Wish I could crack open my skull and let my poor mind free..

Trapped behind wall after wall bound by scars that none will ever see,

by a person I could never be,

behind unrealistic expectations that I perceived someone had set for me,

Awhile ago I stopped fearing my demons and began fearing that the demon is actually me..

And I’m so scared someday I’m going to wake up and realize my whole life is over,

But I won’t wake up when it’s actually over,

Just like I can’t wake up when I’m all the way sober..

Just like I won’t see straight until I’m finally sober..

I don’t get high anymore..

It’s not the drugs it’s just me because high is just normal,

And anytime I get sad and I cry I’m “hormonal”..

I can’t just admit that I’m sad..

Because at times it seems nothings okay its all bad..

The only time I accept I’m depressed is when I’m mad.

But despite others telling me my life’s not so hard,

Despite them calling me lazy, and pulling out the “hypochondriac” card,

Despite the million and one times I’ve had to let my pride go,

I pray that each new day is the day I will grow,

I pray everyday that my scars will not show,

Maybe today is my day; you never know..

Written and owned by d3licate


For so long I’ve been fighting for this idea of free;

Been wounded so many times fighting for what I thought was me;

Who is me?

Some days I don’t even know;

And I don’t know where I’m going because I’ve got nowhere I want to go.

I’ve been down, but I was up, I’ve still got nothing to show;

A lot less people hit me up now that I don’t have all that money to blow.

And I could feed you some bullshit like “I don’t know how this happened”.

But though I didn’t know the fine print how else did I expect it all to end?

Find myself in the mirror and to me I do not look the same.

Took on all the blame for others,
And between me and her there’s no one else to blame.

I know that I’m crazy, literally certifiably insane.

And not only because of the needle that once lived in my vein.

Yet recently I feel I’m the only one around that’s sane.Or is it just cause I recognize my fatal flaw is my own shame.

So I asked the girl in the mirror;

“Are you a bad person?”
“And all those choices you made, what made them worth it?”

“Was it done out of hate? Or were you just hurtin?”

“You fight with yourself, tell me who threw the first hit?”

“Did you pick up your pieces but you couldn’t make them fit?”

And at this point my reflection she no longer denies,
When I look in the mirror it no longer lies.

I’m so lost,

bound by some invisible contract I signed without knowing the cost.

I thought I was enough that I could spread it around.
Some pieces I’ve lost will never be found.

Now my insides feel empty;

too scared to look for the hole.

Damned to spend this lifetime not all the way whole.

Found myself trapped scared I’ll never be free,
Can’t ever be alone but I’m used to lonely.

Feels like I’ll never fit in just quite right.
Like I’m the last puzzle piece that got lost out of sight.

Worried that something will just always be missing,

And while they shoot for the stars I’ll always just be down here wishing.

Written and owned by d3licate


It’s just one more skipped Thanksgiving, probably my great grandmothers last,

Once again missed Christmas, you could say I was stuck in the past, but I couldn’t get my head out of my own ass.

Next year I’ll do better, but next year’s getting old,

My past it holds me hostage it seems I cannot break it’s hold.

And everyone says let go, it’s all over, now it’s done.

And if you don’t move forward than you’ve lost and the bad guys won..

But I just can’t shake the trauma nightmares keep me up at night.

Adrenaline my go too, I can’t get out of fight or flight..

Post traumatic stress disorder,

Can’t make my brain see that it’s already over.

Memories stored out of order,

I’ve tried all the drugs haven’t found the cure,

Can’t understand this concept forward,

Still running away, nothing to run toward.

Still stuck in this corner..

In a week I’m turning twenty four,

Feel like I’ve lived my whole life but I desperately crave more.

Feel like there’s nowhere to go,

Overcome so much but have nothing to show..

One step forward two steps back but I’m still mending,

But I’m overcoming..not pretending..

Written and owned by D3licat3

You’re a mean one mr. Grinch

Anyone who takes the time to wish me merry Christmas beware,

It’s the anniversary of my first suicide attempt which I love to share.

Merry Christmas,

Merry Christmas indeed.

A whole day for me to sit and wallow in my own greed.

I don’t deserve shit, but what I gets never enough.

I didn’t make a list, I’m lucky I didn’t get none.

But the real present will be if your fist doesn’t leave any black smears on my face.

I’m not sure what you want but I’ve been trying to give you space.

I just want the chance to go home tomorrow,

Pretend I’m all happy, it’s Christmas for an hour I can shed my shroud of sorrow.

But Christmas eve came and went and I’m depressed.

And I feel that all too familiar question tinkering round in my head..

What’s the point?

It’d be better for everyone if you were just dead.



You’re just holding them all back.



You take without giving back,

One year clean doesn’t matter cause your lifes still not on track.

Now my bowls almost empty and I dropped it but it didn’t crack.

I’ll call it a Christmas miracle and laugh to my friends,

But I’m alone.

Merry Christmas.

Written and owned by D3licat3

Am I?

I know I’m not a fucking idiot but I feel like one.

Perhaps because I don’t know know why I would or wouldn’t be one.

All I know is my instincts are screaming to run.

Whatever this game is you win, I am done.

Cause I just cannot do it, cannot feel like this.

Thinking back to highschool railroad tracks go up the wrist.

I’m not made of stone.

But you just keep on chipping.

Tearing flesh from bone,

Don’t know how I’m still breathing.

Sorry I think I need to go.

I just can’t do this anymore,

You need to let me go,

What are you even holding on for

You hate me you’ve made it so very clear.

Made sure I could hear it, when I couldn’t even hear.

And so I think,

I think I need to go,

There’s something I am missing and I don’t want to know

You’ve left me beaten with bruises that show,

Yeah I really think I have to go

Written and owned by D3licat3

To the girl at the Citgo who asked to read my aura for me..

Dear girl at the citgo who told me she could “read my aura”,

If that’s the case then can you tell me why I hate mascara?

You said “yes, he’s a good guy”,

My response would’ve been “take another look, there’s more to him than meets the eye, and upon second inspection if you still think so then tell me; why?”

See although you should always trust your instincts; sometimes energy can lie.

And if you can really read my aura tell me “do I really want to die?”

Dear girl at the citgo, I don’t want to tell you you’re wrong. It’s not that I did not believe you, and as our story grows you may have been right all along.

It’s just that I won’t subject you to my pain.

Every person that has seen me ended up going insane. It’s funny people always judge me and my ability to maintain. Not a one of them has ever looked too deep inside my brain.

Girl at the citgo, I know you think you know my soul.

You caught me off guard asking about a baby, I know you thought you were on a roll.

But you don’t know me.

You see the person I could be, or the person I wanted to be, you see the person I allow you to see.

You don’t know me, cause if you did then you’d know I was empty.

Trapped in a cage begging to be let free.

You don’t know me..

And I would never ask you too.

Subjecting someone else to my pain is something I could never do. Keep on knocking, but I will not let you in. You don’t need to know my agony, you don’t need to see the holes I dig into my skin.

You don’t know me.

You’re not ready too yet.

And yet something draws me to you it’s something I do not quite get, but it may just be that you’re one of the oldest I have met, who retained their childlike outlook, who’s cynicism has not been set.

Deep down I’m hoping that we will cross paths again, and feel like it is meant to be I just do not know when,

But until then..

Dear girl at the citgo who asked to read my aura, I believe you, but your not ready.

Written and owned by D3licat3