My Dearest Kass,
When my body is six feet under
The maggots will eat at my heart
And taste the love I had for you.
Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 10:23 AM UTC
The morning after you **** yourself
your clothes will still be in the hamper,
Your leftovers in the fridge,
Your phone beside your lifeless body
The letters you wrote before you lost conciseness
Sitting on the dresser
Your little brother bounces with excitement
Knocking on your door wanting his big sister to come play
He opens the door still thinking your asleep
He comes to your lifeless body
He sees the pomegranate red blood that has soaked the sheets
The scream he lets out you would’ve said was obnoxious
But now your lifeless body lies in front of him
The morning after you **** yourself everything will begin the same
But the purity of morning may not last forever
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 10:14 AM UTC
“Good morning [redacted] high school! Today we will be preforming our lockdown drill.”
“Please remember it is just a drill.”
Just a drill is what they say as if I’m not practicing what could very well
be the way I die
Just a drill this time but what about next?
You want me to hide in the corner
Quiet as a mouse
The lights turned out
Make it seem like we aren’t there
But we are
We are there
Being hunted
In a place we are meant to learn math
Not how to use a tourniquet
It is just a drill
But it wasn’t drill for other kid
The one who didn’t go home yesterday
The one whose mom is crying?
Maybe the first grader who can’t wear light up shoes
Because he might need to hide
I am not their target practice
If I don’t stand up for my rights
Who will
That’s the thing about my generation
We don’t know when to stand up
We’ve been taught to
Sit down
Be quiet
Paint yourself as the black sleep
It’s just a drill
Until it’s your child.
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 11:35 AM UTC
I was so young barley double digits
All I needed was a hug
To be told everything would be ok
Nothing seemed ok
I was changing
Everyone was changing
I stopped worrying about if my bike tires had air
Instead I started worrying about my hair
Why were people staring
I worried about what was wrong with me
Why was I like this
too loud
Too sensitive
Too different
I needed a hug
But I picked up the blade
I need to feel something
I wanted the pain
I was 10 when the lines began
I was just a child
Barley double digits
Who reached for the blade
Instead of reaching for some help
Aug 6, 2025
Aug 6, 2025 at 6:45 PM UTC
TW: mentions of addiction
Addiction is like a game
It make you believe you are in control
“I can stop if I want”
But can you?
Can you get rid of its grasp on you
Its claws will dig in to your skin
Trying to pull you back
You will wither like a flower
And think “just 1 more time”
That 1 more time turns to 9
That 9 turns binding
The bind that will not break
If you don’t stop today
The cycle will repeat tomorrow
Like ring around the Rosie
Around and around
till you collapse
You must break the cycle
Before the cycle breaks you.
Jul 12, 2025
Jul 12, 2025 at 10:55 AM UTC
TW : references to triggering topics below
My art is not considered normal
It’s made of fine lines
The lines form rows
They tell a story
Of whom I once was
During the tears
Those tears not only lasted for year but also still last
My fine lined art has recently come to a end
Or more of a rest
Because it may start again
My fine lined art is not art
But a way to cope
A way to breathe
Yet my skin bleeds whenever I draw those lines
The fine lines are considered ugly
To the eyes of society
they will leave scars forever
But my scars are not ugly they tell a story
Of my fine lined art.
Jul 11, 2025
Jul 11, 2025 at 5:53 PM UTC
A few years ago a tv flickered on
It was bright
Colorful
It made me feel good
I let it shine bright
A year or two pasted
And the tv had changed
There was something new
It felt right
I let it shine bright
But some people glared
It made me feel odd
Ashamed of the glow
I slowly hid it
And dimmed that glow
I hid it under a blanket
In the back room of the house
But that tv still flickers
Hoping one day to come out.
Jul 10, 2025
Jul 10, 2025 at 11:31 AM UTC
When I die
No one will mourn
There will be a funeral
Many will attend
mourning someone
That died when I was 10
The gravestone will be mistaken
About who I am
The people will weep
And mourn for long
But not for me
For they have it wrong
They will mourn the girl in the casket
A shell of who I once was
No one will mourn me
That is no lie
When I die they will mourn the shell
of a girl i once was
But the little boy inside
who’s always wanted to come out
No one will mourn him
Ace will be forgotten
He will be erased.
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:25 AM UTC
That boy from Virginia
The one I once knew
We never met in person
But I wish that we had
You knew more about me
Then I knew myself
You’re 2 years older
God you’re almost 17
I remember when we first met
You were 13
You’ve ghosted me twice
But sometimes you return
I’m not sure you will this time
But I hope that you do
We wanted to live in Germany
With horses and cats
We talked about band
And how I wanted a cat
We’ve seen each other in our highs
As well as our lows
We grew up together
But now you’ve gone on
You’ve grown up more
And left me back
If you happen to see this
Please come reach out
Oh Kass from Virginia
I miss you
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:23 AM UTC
I only knew you for a week
But it felt like years
We shared much in common
Especially our tears
It been 2 years
I wonder where you’ve gone
Did you get into theater school?
Or is that dream gone?
I remember giving you my book
Because you wanted to read
It left a impact on you
I remember the poems you taught me to write
So I’m here writing this one
The last words you said to me were
“Take care of the hive”
It was our inside joke
From that book of mine
Oh dear Cameron C.
I hope you’re ok
I think of you often
A little to much
I hope you’re okay
Sincerely your psych ward bf, Ace
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:21 AM UTC