When I was just a little girl
I knew something about me wasn't right
I spent most of my days angry
and I couldn't sleep at night
I found myself looking in the mirror at the age of nine
thinking to myself that I was fat
I thought that way until the age of thirteen
and that's when things got really bad
I spent most of my days sitting in my walk-in closet
writing poems as Green day blasted in my ears
I'd sit in the shower and cut myself
and let my blood collide with my tears
Not letting myself eat gave me some control
on what I was feeling all of the time
Even though I was always hurting
I would smile and tell everyone that I was fine
I poured my heart into my writing
everything made sense on paper
I felt relieved in some ways
when others treated me like a social loser
I was alone in this world of confusion I couldn't understand myself
All I could do was cry
because I was different from everybody else
The scars on me do not scare me
they remind me that I am not crazy
They remind me that I am human
with a past that is really messy
I still don't know what is wrong with me
if I could fix myself I would
Whatever I have will always be a part of
causing me to always be misunderstood.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 6:27 AM UTC
It is said that insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results
Call me crazy because I will repeatedly repeat and never learn
Maybe I don't want to learn because I love the cycle of yes and no and mostly no
Even though it kills us both
We are insane because we know that it is wrong and that's the way it has to go
And yet we try, and don't try again and again
And the pen etches into the page the same stanzas
The monotony sounds like harmony
Because in our insanity we are happier and unhappier than we will ever be
I would rather die waiting for change than to be without your sweet disappointment
To relent and reclaim my sanity would be a tragedy because I would have to write new stanzas and my pen is too in love with our poetry, to welcome a new subject
For the sake of my pen (at risk of her heartbreak) I will reject the cry inside of me to run to reality
While the hurricane proves pathetic fallacy outside of our window
We breathe lunacy and embrace
Insanity
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
Everything is on fire
My head and the blankets conspire
They band together to avoid tragedy
We're one ******* up anatomy
The windows are painted shut now
And no one seems to know how
We ended up on the bathroom floor
When just yesterday you swore
Not to drink anymore
I jumped into the sky
That night when I got high
And ripped open the seems
I broke all of your dreams
See, the sky was bleeding in my hand
The cuts were filling up with sand
There is nothing plural about me and my broken heart
It's me and I am my broken heart
I did not know from the start
That his hair would taste like the sky's blood
That I would lying here in the mud
That her body would make a thud
And return to me in ribbons
Our secrets rest in prisons
That glass of ***** is the cell key
And why I beg you to come back for me
I can't stay up late like I used to
Sleep is the only escape from you
Now go do what you have to
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
"Don't let madness corrupt you." A wise man once said, but it is impossible not to be corrupted when you're as dark as insanity itself.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
I wage war
That's never been seen before
Is sanity worth fighting for?
I'm not really sure
Insanity?
A calamity?
I call it individuality!
Who is Society
To create this hypocrisy?!?
It seems like such a tragedy
To waste such ingenuity
To dull the creativity
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
The most **** thing about a guy has nothing to do with his clothes, hair or eye colour.
It's in the way he looks at you with longing, when you finally find out he wants you just as badly as you want him.
When he pulls you so close to him that there is literally no space between you, because he can't stand the thought of there being any.
When he kisses you, so that it feels as if he is stealing the air from your lungs, and for those few seconds you forget what air even is.
When all thoughts go out the window and its just him, with you,in the most simple way possible.
Now that is the definition of ****
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC
he was born in the city
he had no home
he no place to turn to
he was on his own
he had no mamma
he had no father
he had no friends
nobody to call on
what was I to do
Can you picture this sad true story
a young child of 13
one without hope
no home sweet home
no happy memories
with only God to wish to
living on the streets
struggling to eat
struggling to sleep
trying to be a man
but still a trembling child inside
and all alone
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 1:53 PM UTC
For those who sleep, I stay awake
For those who dreams, I constantly work
The things I want, the things I need
Are those things that come from my many dreams
My dreams have become crystal clear
As God now leads me and I hold him very dear
From my past, from the years I've used
Are days in my life, that I now refuse
From the years of my past, I've created my life
A life like no other, is the life I once had
How can anyone explain their life from the past
All I can say to one, is that life goes very fast
Hold on to that dream, they do come true
It has built my passion, to help the one's that keep true
No I am not God, nor do I have a crystal ball
But I can guarantee you, your dreams can come true
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
As I travel down this gravel road of life, a gem will one day be found.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC