cheek-gnawing, knuckle cracking, fear inducing fear.
school, work, life, death;
don't sit too long, you'll start thinking.
work, always work,
work until you can't work anymore.
work until the fingers can't feel and your thoughts quiet down.
always keep busy
keep tapping your foot, bouncing your leg;
twist the ring once more.
nail marks in your palm,
heartbeat in your ears.
don't look them in the eyes.
the moment when your mood isn't just one feeling,
but every single emotion flowing through your veins at once.
the moment when you wonder if the world around you
can hear your rapid pulse
or smell your insecurity.
like a wolf stalking its prey,
waiting
to use its words, its fangs
tearing into your skin,
your disastrous mind.
the moment when you forget how to breathe
when breathing is what you need to do most.
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
No one could ever love
a girl with scars.
She's so ugly,
they just make her look
as broken on the outside
as she is on the inside.
She's already dead on the inside.
The forced smiles
and broken laughter...
She was the girl with
the drunken father and
the depressed mother.
The dysfunctional family.
The abusive brother.
The family of bullies.
She was the one who,
no matter how much she tried,
could not ignore it.
The girl who
sliced into the flesh
just to feel something.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
You, my love,
Give me butterflies.
Since the day we met,
Every time I logged on,
They would do a
Dance around my stomach.
These butterflies, though,
Are not the kind I get when
I have to talk in front of the class .
These butterflies are the beautiful kind.
You, my love,
Make my heart race.
When you say those
three special words,
It beats faster and faster
And the excitement spreads to my face
As my lips curl into a smile.
This smile, though,
Is not the one I put on for
The people at school.
This smile is genuine happiness,
A smile which I rarely see anymore.
You, my love,
Are just that.
My love.
I love you.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
There are three simple words
that can make me,
that can break me.
Three words that
anyone can say.
The speaker of those words
immediately has power over me
as soon as the words
leave their lips.
The words are not
I love you,
but
**** your self.
kys.
three words; **** your self.
two words; **** yourself.
an acronym; kys.
Six months ago,
you could've said that to me
and I would have been
devastated.
I would cry
and scream
and maybe even try.
Today, however,
you could say those words to me,
and I will smile.
I will smile with confidence.
I will smile with sadness,
because you think it is a joke.
For you cannot tell me what to do.
You cannot bring
me down that easily.
I will laugh
because you think
you can hurt me.
Your petty little words
will not even phase me.
Go ahead and joke,
but I will never
EVER
say those words to anyone.
You never know
when someone will
take you seriously.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
We take things for granted.
Everyone tries to appreciate things more.
Money, life, family.
But what about the simple beauty of a sunset?
The sun is appreciated when it arrives
after the rain is laid on the earth.
Yet,
no one ever says thank you for a beautiful sunset.
The soft colors all melting into each other.
The sun has gifted us another day,
but you do not thank it at the end.
Next time you are watching the sunset--
on the beach,
in the office,
from your kitchen window.
Do not be sad because the day
has come to an end.
Just whisper thank you.
These basic words
hold a world of meaning.
Thank the sun for setting.
Do not take it for granted,
for one day,
it will all be gone.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
I saw your poem.
Those words of hatred.
I'm not getting the last dance.
Do I care?
Not so much.
You think your
clever use of words hurts me.
Your poetic way with words
used to put me in a trance.
Not anymore.
I tried to steal?
Not so much.
You love her?
Good, I'm glad.
She's one of my best friends.
I would never do that to her.
Go to hell.
You were so kind,
so charming.
I wrote a poem,
you left,
never to return.
Well,
Goodbye.
This goodbye is certainly a good one.
I haven't thought about you
in a long time.
You wrote the poem two months ago.
Two months.
The first week was the only week
I actually cared.
Now?
Not so much.
So,
goodbye old friend.
I hope to never see you again.
But if I do?
Don't say hello.
Don't apologize.
Don't even smile.
Just keep walking.
Walk away and don't look back.
You were able to do it online,
now just do it in real life.
I won't apologize.
I will walk on like you aren't there.
I will let it go.
I will smile to myself.
I will be proud to have let go.
Warning,
you only had one chance.
You think it was me
who ruined the friendship.
It was really you.
You make her happy.
If you hurt her,
I will hurt you.
Her heart is fragile,
don't leave it in pieces.
Did you see my poem?
I hope so.
Read it carefully.
It's all you will get out of me.
Read this too--
Goodbye. Forever.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
Like a stab in the heart
it leaves you bleeding.
You fade into the night.
The killer walks away,
wiping the excess love
from their hands.
You let them in.
Their shadow remains
but the love that was once there
has vanished.
You swear to yourself
that you will never again
be so vulnerable.
So stupid.
Like the words of a catchy song,
they are forever imprinted
on your brain.
Their scent,
the way they smiled,
the way they whispered, I love you.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
Society is a contradiction.
It is wrapped up in its
little white lies.
Girls should not hate themselves,
yet they are to fit the
impossibly high standards.
A coincidence
this is not.
Boys should be more sensitive,
yet they are judged and labeled
as babies when they show emotion.
A coincidence
this is not.
Boys should respect women,
yet when a girl is *****
it is her fault due to her actions.
A coincidence
this is not.
Women should never be hit by men,
yet women may hurt men
as they please.
A coincidence
this is not.
We are society,
and we have
greatly contradicted ourselves.
This is a huge knot.
One which we can
not undo.
Every single one of us makes up the mess
that is society today.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
The waves rush onto shore
as thoughts of you rush into my mind,
I listen
to the thoughts.
The waves are a background noise,
but they are louder than my thoughts.
I listen to the waves,
to the stories they have to tell.
They speak of the children.
They whisper about the people.
The children who play upon the shores.
The people who were once those children.
They miss those old children.
Where did they go?
Will they return?
The waves of this beach
tell a story of yearning.
A story of grieving.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC