Him.
He makes your heart race and your skin redden from the way he makes you feel.
He makes you smile when all you want to do is cry.
You want him.
But, so do I.
I want him too.
Probably as much as you do.
He makes my heart race and my skin redden.
He makes me smile when I wish I was never born.
But you have more friends,
better friends.
You have a bigger personality.
You're more noticeable.
"I saw him first." You always tells me.
I feel awful.
I know I should forget about him, but I can't.
You told me you wouldn't date for a while because you just had a breakup.
You always have somebody who wants to date you.
Always.
I never do.
So why are you doing this to me?
Let me feel.
I don't want to forget him.
He makes me feel.
The way he rolls up his button up shirts.
The way he teases others.
The way he sat there and listened when you rant.
You want him.
But so do I.
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 6:28 PM UTC
I step onto the stage,
the bright spotlights making my eyes water,
the rows and rows and rows of seats making my mentality waver,
the judges with their eyes penetrating me like icicles.
Their emotionless faces making me doubt myself and what I'm here for.
The palms of my hands are drenched and clammy,
I almost drop my-
oh, I forgot what I'm doing.
Whycan'tImoveI'mstuckIneedtoplayohgodthejudgesarestaringatmewhatdoIdoIcan'tbreatheI'mgoingtomessupI'mafailure
I
need
to
breathe.
Slowly inhale in,
S
l
o
w
l
y
exhale out.
I can do this.
The violin's shoulder rest takes its place,
I inhale,
I exhale,
and I begin.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 9:00 PM UTC
Babbling like a fool,
Proving myself a tool,
I see judgment in those eyes,
I know I am despised.
My mouth closes then,
This is not my friend.
They think I am dumb,
I feel oh so numb.
Mouth, know your place,
It is inferior, like your face.
Please, get in line,
That disdain is a sign.
Speaking is not meant for me,
I am a total freak.
They know it on sight,
My chest is so tight.
Put me out of my suffering,
Their judgment is puncturing.
Their eyes are deadly blades,
I wish that I could fade.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 10:12 PM UTC
TRIGGER WARNING
You
You don't realize it
But you are a part of the reason too
Why my snow skin in stained with red blood.
Why I stare up at my ceiling at 2 am asking myself
"Why am I like this?"
You say that I,
I can tell you anything but,
This "anything" is limited.
I stand up for myself and you say I'm not old enough to speak up.
I don't say a word and you say I must speak up.
You don't understand,
You don't understand how you are the depths of my misery
dragging me deeper towards Hell.
No,
You aren't dragging me to Hell,
You turned my mind to match the devil's,
You've turned my reality into Hell.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 10:10 PM UTC
I look at the mirror
Completely disgusted
My face is too clear
It should be busted
So I punch my cheeks
And yank out my hair
One of my many self-harm streaks
Should I even dare?
A pair of scissors
Right below my fingers
Should I pick it up
And if I do, where should I cut?
I look around my body
And find my arms empty
Of much needed punishment
So I attempt to cut my flesh
But I couldn't bring myself
To break through my skin
So I put the scissors back in
And cried again
Begging for some kind of help
But I never got it
And I never will
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 7:56 PM UTC
TRIGGER WARNING
She is the girl.
She's the girl with her creamy, chocolate eyes.
She's the girl with her curly, crazy hair to match her personality.
She's my best friend.
I can't help but stare up and down at her curves,
but you're not supposed to look at your friends like that, I realized.
It felt like a knife,
similar to the one kept hidden safely in my bedroom,
penetrated my heart.
It hurts.
Having a sleep over with a Christian friend
"Any boys ya like?"
Having to bite my tongue until it bleeds so I won't blurt my secret.
It hurts.
Having one of my closest friends pretends I'm not there,
after I come out to her.
It hurts.
Why am I like this?
I scream into the night,
sharpening my nails and slicing my skin.
I bleed,
it hurts.
Why can't I be normal?
I guess my heart just doesn't go that way,
I guess I'm gay.
She's my best friend.
She's the girl with the curly, crazy hair to match her personality.
She's the girl with her creamy, chocolate eyes.
She's the girl.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC