yungpeacock
Caroline, 17, senior year of high school. Sometimes I like to write poetry so might as well share it. My dream job is game design. I also play cello, piano, and like to draw and write stories. / / I'm just trying to find my place and what I excel at. Seems like being broken is one of those things.
Breathe in, out, in, out, in
Her lips formed the words as she scrunched up her nose, her eyes shutting tightly.
Hands shot out and gripped onto the bag of the person leading her,
"Don't leave me" she whispered so they couldn't hear
So they couldn't notice the tears.
Besides if they did then
then they'd feel obligated to help.
Teeth bit down hard on her bottom lip, blood seeping slowly into her already crazed senses.
Now I've hurt myself too. **** **** **** fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
Repetition wasn't an option, it was the only way to think when in a crowd. It was the only way thoughts stuck in her head.
Her knuckles were turning white as she gripped on harder with every passing body that bumped into her. Getting lost was not an option. Someone would try to help her and just see that she was a freak.
Freak freak freak freakfreakfreakfreakfreak.
Don't let them see. She couldn't let them see the short, hasty breaths or the wild, big eyed looks of panic. She couldn't let them see the speck of blood on her lip or white, sweaty knuckles.
It had to be over soon though right? Her right eye peaked at the scene around her, and the people were thinning out. Slowly she released her grip on the bag, shaking fingers being shoved into her pockets which only felt like they were now vibrating her entire self. She returned her eye to the ground as she tried to force out slower, uneven breathing. Her friend looked back at her with a sympathetic smile.
Her cheeks turned bright red, they did notice. Did they mind? It didn't seem like it. But who knows. All she knew was she only had limited time to prepare herself for the next round in the crowds.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 12:10 AM UTC
sometimes when I
think about the way
your hand holds mine
or the way
your body wraps around mine
I feel like everything is right
but sometimes when I
think about the way
you guard yourself from me
or the way
your eyes get distant when with me
I feel like I shouldn’t be here
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
I’m no good with words or rhythm.
My voice shakes and my palms sweat,
my knees get weak and I barely can stand.
I hope you know I love you anyways.
I’m quiet and shy, I prefer to be alone.
I’m easily angered and I struggle to not shout.
I hope you can still see the love through the flames in my eyes.
I swear I love you through my faults,
They are who I am.
Because who I am loves you with all her being
And I hope you love her too.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
People don't remember the nice things;
they remember the fighting, screaming, kicking-
the things that hurt them.
You lit me up when I met you.
I remember the singing, laughing, dancing-
the things that showed you cared.
When things got bad we were there to hold each other, to lighten the loads on our backs.
But we only ended up-
switching loads.
Then your mistake ended it all and-
And I was the ***** again.
Down the road you'll only remember the-
the fighting
screaming
kicking-
the things that hurt you.
You won't remember when I stayed up until 4,
just to make sure you were alive every night.
You won't remember how I looked at you after ***
you'll only see angry tears after the yelling.
It's just human nature.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC