Depressed and angry at the world
I put a pencil between my teeth
My last resort
I hope with all I have
It will make me feel better

They're your friends
Until you need them
They want to make a meense
But not admit they are wrong
They'll help you
Until you need help
They claim they're all equal
But they discriminate
They say that they’re fine
But they are far from it
They can love you
But still hurt you
They can earn your trust
Just to steal from you
They can say that they discipline you
When they are harming you
They can say that they love themselves
When the love pours down their arms
They can look confident
But cry at their reflection
They can be your friend
And lie to you
They can claim they want peace
But start to **** one another
They can try to help each other
But hurt each other in the end

They are terrible
beautiful
confusing
complex
Loving
and hating

They are people

People
We are like colors
Of different shades
And different materials

Some preferred more than others
But no matter those differences
Together
We make a painting
On this giant canvas
That is our life on earth

And like all art
Some love this messy painting
Abstract and complicated
"Beautiful!"
They exclaim

And some think
"Orange and blue?
What idiot would do that?
I need to tell them that they're wrong
What's their name?"

People are like leaves
Some have been stepped on
And some have just fallen
Some have been taken by a child and cherished
And some left on the bottom of the leaf pile
Forgotten

People are like leaves
So different from each other
Some older
Some younger
Different shapes and sizes
Colors mixed together

People are like leaves
Some are misshapen and not picked up
And some are declared beautiful and get straightened in a book

Far away we are
But at least when we look up
We see the same sky

I figured it out
People just want to be hot peppers

Peppers are spicy which pushes people away
But their flavor is enough for people to stay
People still love them
cook with them
Eat them
They even learn to love their spice
Just existing is enough to suffice

People just want to be hot peppers
Their “flaws” are loved
People love them for it sometimes
Their wonderful flavors appreciated

People just want to be hot peppers
There are some who can't handle them
Which is normal if you're alive
But despite those haters
They still thrive

The people on the pages
Of those books that I hold close to my heart
Smell like home,
And are the light in the dark of my mind
Are so much better
Than the ones I know
In real life

I wish all the people I see on this site
Would be here
Because they are so much kinder than the average person
And if we would talk in real life
We wouldn't only say silly jokes
But have deep conversations

A prompt in ELA
"Perfect Day"
While everyone started their paragraphs about what their perfect days would look like
With watching TV
And going to the mall
I wrote a poem about how they don't exist
Because she didn't say not to

It went something kind of like this:


There is no such thing as a perfect day
Even if everything goes your way
And you get to sleep in
You eat your favorite food
The sky is blue
Not it's usual gray
And all of your morbid thoughts
Put away

Even if you
Spend the day alone in solitude and peace
Or with your friends
And loved ones
And if you buy a pony
Or win the lottery
Or just smile the whole day
It will never be a perfect day

Because as you lie in bed that night
Or maybe you think about it the whole day
Tomorrow will not be the same
And the sky will return to its gray
And the thoughts flooding back in
And the peace--gone

You can take photos of people
Things
Moments

I wish you could capture feelings too
So I can look at my smiling self
And remember that I I've done it before
So I can do it again
In moments like these
Where I feel that this terrible feeling
Will never end

Pick
Pick
Pick
Pick
My thumb is bleeding
Pick
Pick
Pick
Theres still a bump
Pick
Pick
Pick
It hurts
Pick
Pick
Pick
I need a band-aid
Pick
Pick
Pick
I don't have one
Pick
Pick
Pick
I have another thumb
Pick
Pick
Pick
Oh, it's also bleeding
Pick
Pick
Pick
I need to go to sleep
Pick
Pick
Pick
I lay down
Pick
Pick
Pick
It's still not smooth
Pick
Pick
Cry

I'm sorry
But you have to stay

I'm not ready to make a star for you yet

Poetry is like when you're listening to music
And you suddenly remember there's a volume button
So you make it louder
Everything just seems better
And more exiting

The simplest thing
Like a leaf falling from a tree
Or a smile
Is now fascinating
And all you can think of that day

The biggest, scariest things
Like trauma, abuse, and loss
Are validated
And take up less space in your mind

You start to think differently
Or more
You start to really think


People are different
People have different problems
After you read their poem
You can start to understand them
Or maybe yourself
It makes you love words
And the way it helps us empathize with eachother
And really see eachother

Poetry is for the things we struggle to say outloud
Our deepest thoughts
What we believe is up with the world now
It's another way of communication
For those of us who have thoughts we can't speak
Or we don't even realize we have

I may not believe in a god(s)
But that does not mean that I do not have a religion

I believe in poetry

I sit there
Passively doing schoolwork
Only to look up and notice
There are groups of people who are laughing and smiling

At first
I am grateful not to be one of them
It's so much work to pretend to be happy
To pretend to find the jokes funny
But then I remember
That usually people aren't pretending

There's work I shouldn't be doing
But work I will not do
Until it's the very last moment
And I have to

Of course
Sometimes I feel cursed
Because of my mother's job
For she plays music
Professionally
She plays trombone

Never a routine
Always schedule based on shows

No sleep
The gig ends at 2am and there's a flight to catch at 4

No social interaction
With anyone my age

And pressure
To be a talented musician

But also
I think it's worth it for

The moment I watch her solo
Go crazy and show her soul
I get to think to myself
"****, that's my mom out there!"

I get to play on stage
Big audiences watching
Or more
Listening

Meeting people
From all over the world
With so many stories to share

And see her
Be a role model
For young girls who really want to be like her

"This isn't a book, Liana"
"Things are as they seem"
"This isn't science fiction"
"This isn't a dream"
My friend tells me
Blames it on how many books I read

"Prove it"
I say

She can't...

Because I feel that days are all the same;
Boring
Dull
And lame

I ask all my teachers a question
"Would you mind telling me as many uses for a paperclip as you can name?"

The numbers ended up being
10, 5, 8, and 2
Uses for a paperclip

And after they were done
They asked why

The average adult can name 15
And the average kindergartener can name 60
Because as you get older
You ask less questions

"Can the paperclip be 100 feet tall and made of chocolate?"
"Can it be made of water and fit perfectly in a glass"
"Can it become president and pass laws?"

But society gets to the souls
The creativity
The curiosity
And discourages it
So that the only answers I were
"To clip paper"
And "as a bookmark"

I need to start doing recaps
when I come home
So I know what I am capable of that day
That way
I don't end up exploded and exhausted
My splattered insides looking up at me
From all over the room
Something I can't just clean up with a broom

Ingredients:
2 cups soul
4 tablespoons heart
1 3/4 cups creativity
8 cups whatever flavour you want

Directions:
Mix it all in whatever order you please
Put it on the oven 428510°
After it explodes
Write about how your house burned to the ground

He is the kind of manipulative
That makes question yourself
And your memory
So I found a loophole
I record everything
On my phone
So I can check to make sure

It's sad that I have to do this
With my own father
But I need to
For me mentally

Drink some water
Eat something
Write a poem
Take a walk
Just sit there and exist for a moment

It’s okay
Nothing really matters anyway

Date her
Kiss her
Marry her
She deserves a be happy after all

Just don't crack her anymore
She might shatter

Some people
Are choking back tears
Always

I am not a psychic
But I have common sense

Before the idea of getting a dog was in your head
I knew you would lose it

Before we even knew you would kick us out of the house
I know it would turn into a junkyard in your hands

Before the divorce was even official
I knew you would have a girlfriend the first year after or already had one before (still figuring that out)

Before we went on that last trip
I dreamed this would all happen

Before you went to meet your therapist
I already know you fed her lies

And people tell me not to worry when I say I know what happens next
And it's not pleasant

I fear
We are being striped
Of our uniqueness
And individuality
For when I look around
The crowded classroom
I see sameness
Or at least
Many, many masks

Clothes
Interests
Speech
Ideas
And beliefs

Are we all
Becoming a blur
Of fakeness
Or are we all
Ever so different
when we're not performing?

I suppose that is why
The openly different
Seem to feel so alone and estranged

I am all one for unity
But I just see maks
Unless I look very hard
And see a tiny twinkle in someone's eye
And I close my eyes
Focus
And listen hard
I think
I might hear some silent screams
...
I guess it's true
And they aren't truly happy

Yes
I may have not saved the world
There are many still suffering
Many still dying
Many still crying

But
I'm proud to say
I have saved A world

I have saved that street cat's world
I have saved that person's world
Who knows
I could have saved a stranger's world

Yes
I didn't save the whole wide world
There are too many problems to solve alone
Even so
I have saved a world
The world for one
And that's enough

Shove those feelings
Deep inside you
Dance
Remember to smile
Is it okay to look down?

Fear? Anxiety? Doubt?
Save it for later
Can't let it out now

Just so what she does
She seems to know
Hands up then
Hands low now

Shove it all down
Save it for later
Now it's just bubbling
But I know soon
It will boil over

Hands covered in scars
And I know
It's my fault

I wonder
Who could ever love them?
They are just a reminder
Of what I've done
And that isn't beautiful
At all

Blood isn't beautiful
Injuries aren't beautiful
Especially when I'm the cause

People
Want
Perfect

But I want to be loved like a hot pepper
For my flaws
Even when they aren't pleasant
Or beautiful

Unfortunately
I'm not a vegetable

You arrive at the second-hand store
You try some things on
You have no idea who has worn them before
It could have been a devil
It could have been a saint
But it doesn't matter
You take it anyway

You wear it for some time
Maybe years maybe days
It could be too small now
Or maybe stained
Maybe you throw it out
Or return to its place
At the second-hand store
Where the next person
has no idea who has worn it before
But it doesn't matter
They buy it anyway

Something I did
When I was younger
While I was feeling good
Was I would send my future self love
For when I needed it most
For when things were just too much
I would tap the back of hand
And it was sent
And to receive it
I just had to tap again
And though there's no way
That a little movement of hand could do so much
But it really felt that way
At least I was there for me
And that was a comfort

To all of you
That are hurting
I wish I could soothe you
Give you a hug
And tell you that you're not alone

Unfortunately, we are all
Through a screen
On the deepest
Smallest
Most beautiful place in the internet
And I can't hug you

I am trying my best
Willing my brain and my heart
To send you some comfort
And some love
Even when you feel unlovable

I hope that when you look up at the stars
Or the morning moon
You remember
All the others on here
So saw it too

Breath
You're okay

In
...
Out

Tap your left hand with your right
Like I just did now

Maybe
This is how
Even if someone of us are
Far
Far away ?

Some people let themselves see the world black and white and I understand why
Good, or bad person is easy to say
But a scientific fact is that there are 65,534 shades of gray
Take a moment to think of that if you may

So when I go in the that therapy office and one of the first things I hear is
“You know your dad isn't a **** person, Ay?”
What I want to say is he is one of those shades of gray
Only what I do is a polite smile and nod, waving it away

Some things can't even be measured
No matter the time and effort
So is he even a shade of gray?
To wrack your brain out, in addition to the tiresome day

Some people let themselves see the world black and white, and I understand why
Saves so much energy and confusion
And maybe they were partially right
For the ones who can save themselves, this might be the best way

Showing people I know my poetry
Is like taking out my insides
My most vulnerable feelings
And giving them a bow and arrow
Just hoping they won't shoot

It's like leaving a prescious item
In the open
Just waiting to be stolen
Or destroyed
It could happen any moment

Nose clogged
Like my brain

Throat hurting
Like my heart

Body weak
Like my social skills

Head aching
Kind of like me

"Here, have a piece."

"Okay, but just a little one. I'm not hungry."

He hands me a half of the pastry
I rip off a third of that
And eat it
Even though I don't want to
I just don't want to make him mad

I hand back the rest of it

"Finish it"
He pushes

"I can't, I'll feel sick"
I explain

"Please Liana
It's not that much"
He tries

"But it'll make me throw up"
I plead

"It won't. Eat it."
He says

I can feel the rubber band pulling
His anger stretching
I'm afraid he'll snap

I eat the rest of it
And feel sick the whole day

Didn't eat lunch or dinner
And never again
Will be willing to eat that pastry

Don't ask me
Why I don't want to go out to eat with you
You ruined it for yourself

Nausea
Headache

Tiredness
Yet inability to sleep

I know that it's the price
For a better life
But will it be?
Could this all be for nothing?

Will this tiny little pill
Really change anything?

All it's done so far
Made things worse

Please
Let this be worth it

One of the best feelings ever
Is when I finally
Get to be alone
And feel the relief of removing the mask
Of a normal, calm person

I can let out the breath
I didn't even know I was holding
And I can finally be
The weird specimen
That is me

I was planning to
I really wanted to
I wanted her to know
I wanted to be able to tell her
About why I bleed
And about my father
But my mouths betrays me
It refuses to say these things outloud
Why?

Just say it
I tell myself
You describe it so well in your head
Why can't you speak it?
Why did you stay silent?

Now the moment is over
Once again
You said nothing
And still
No one knows

Not even your closest of friends
Why?
You want them to know
You want to lighten the load
They can speak it so well outloud
They trusted me
Why can't I trust them?
I can
But I won't

Tears roll down my cheeks
She's asleep
She doesn't see
And if she would
I wouldn't even be able to tell her why
How sad is that?

Die
Hmm
Am I putting it in this poem just so it will ryme?
Or because that's what I want to do
But no
I don't
I can't
And I won't
I shouldn't let myself think such thoughts

I missed my chance to be open
I missed my chance to Infront of people
For what feels like the first time in a long time
I missed my chance to show them
All the reasons why
Because my mouth can't express
All that I need to express
Like poetry

Silent Screams
In my head
And unnoticeable outloud
Almost constantly

There are very few
That listen to them
And more so
Understand

I know most
Don't hear them
When standing right there,
Through the walls,
Through the bathroom stalls
Or at all
But they are the loudest kind of screams
To me

I sit on a tree stump
And stare at the sky
Look at the stars
And reach out to mine

Music filling my heart
My jacket beside me
I like the uncomfortable cold

I wave at planes going by
They say "goodbye new jersey" in their waves
And I say back
"Goodbye"
They don't even know it

Shivering
Crying
Looking lost and strange to any stranger
Yet I feel so free

Once when I was around 6 years old
I was ******
At my teacher
So I went and sat under the slide
And I wouldn't move
Even after the whistle was blown
And after my teacher yelled at me some more
And my friend joined me
And then left
And until they say they would call my mom
And that they were disappointed in me
I still sat
That was all I could do at my age to protest
And I did until I felt I had made my impact
Then I got up silently
And went in line
With a smile of satisfaction
And the reminisce of tears on my cheeks

Now
When I'm ******
I sit there
Clenching my fists
And do nothing else
(Outside of my head)

I wish I would be more like 6 year old me
Honestly

There's a bump there
On my skin
I need to peel it off
It's making mad
I scratch at it
Pinch it
And then rip it off

What have I done?!
I think as blood starts gushing out
I am such pain but I have to keep a straight face

I knew I was doing it
I knew I was picking at it
But then again, I didn't at the same time

I hide my injury
But it hurts terribly
I want to keep it a secret
But it's killing me
I need them to know
So that they can stop me
Because as much as I hate to admit it
I am not in control of me

After it bleeds
It is a scab
And it's taller then the rest of my skin
I need to pick it off
Once again

And when I do
It bleeds again
I am mad once more
At myself
For I did not stop my urge somehow
Like I promised myself I would

And this time
It comes back as a scar
And it taunts me for the rest of my life
A living portrait of my mistake
That gives me a look of judgement
Whenever I dare to glance at it

As you close your eyes
And slow your breathing
I long to finally be let free
More and more

I am desperate
I just want to sing and to scream
To escape the pressure
And to be something other than a darkness following you around constantly

Finally, you are taken over by sleep
And I am released
I can do anything
But as soon as I leave
I hear your silent screams

“Help me!” You try
Eyes closed
Heart open and out on your sleeve
Helpless
In danger
Without my protection

I don’t get very far
Only have a few seconds of being separate
Being myself
And just myself
But soon enough
You need me
And I can’t ignore your plea

So instead of roaming and screaming and exploring the world
I cover you
Everywhere
And keep the monsters away
All night

Yiu never know I’m there
Or appreciate me
I am your shadow
Just darkness in light
Just a blank figure of you

I just want to be me
Even if it’s just while your asleep

I want to do something
But I can't seem to do anything
I just sit on the couch
Cat on my lap
Blanket over me
And read

Everything I write
Right now
I feel isn't complete

I want to get up
And walk with my music outside
But I'm tired
Why is this so hard for me?

There are so many people in this world
That feel lonely
And most of the time
We tend to get along
There are so many of us
And yet
Here we are
Alone
Wishing for someone to care
To ask us questions
And wanting to be the one asking

There are so many of us
But we can't seem to find eachother
So here we are
Lonely

Is the saying
"Someone always has it worse"
Really supposed to be comforting?

I don't like to think about
How my pain
Sometimes doesn't compare to other's suffering
When mine already feels like hell

"Someone always has it worse"
Does that make anyone feel better?
To be belittled and then told that someone else is more miserable than you?

I hope not
Because it's terrible that it's true

But I guess I hope so
If it's true that it helps you