It is not at the cost of the person who f**ked you up

Or the pathetic little thoughts, that wriggle into the pink mush of your brain,

Soaking it through until it's shivering and trembling and gone

It is not at the cost of you who dreams every night,

Of golden sandmen and razors that draw blood at every press

The passing of food so that your empty stomach can suffer more

Or meeting eyes with eyes in mirrors and sunny reflection,

Thinking, god, you're worthless.

You don't deserve life.

It is at the cost of the people who watch you break

Who watch their baby shatter

And wish they thought they were beautiful

But don't know how, when the sky has been empty for so long

No stars or red, blinking lights to wish upon

It is at the cost of the person who turns your page

And only sees a blank space ahead

And shreds of paper and ink behind

It is not at the cost of the person who f**ked you up

Maybe a blink, or a stray thought

(They were never at fault)

It is at the cost of you who do not matter

Who does not carry enough weight

To make a dent in the gravitational blanket

Who could float in galactic space

And just disappear

It is at the cost of the hands that shake,

The lungs that quake,

The tears that break,

And the mind that explodes

It is not at the cost of you.

Just the people who you don't know love you.

––

A/N

Hi :) 

How are you all doing?