Chemical Collisions.

Hand me a needle to thread together my skin, because all myself is falling apart.
Turn off all the lights so my eyes won't glisten when my tears begin to fall.
I'm not all alone but I forgot what it's like to be with someone.
Hand me a cigarette so I can choke on something else other than my own words.
Where have I been? I've been lost drowning in thought and emotion.
I've had time to look at the blood running from my wrists that black isn't just a shade but an emotion.
I used to be called an angel, but I clipped my own wings and now I'm falling back down.
The strangest thing about all this is I was here many times before.