I run
Dark, shadowy
Escape, Escape

I know I can’t
they will always find me
Escape, Escape

I look back
Remembering what was done
Escape, Escape

Knowing is the worst part
I can only think
Escape, Escape

Remembering hurts
Knowing I will never be that person again
Escape, Escape

I remember the pain and suffering it caused
All I think is
Escape, Escape
For they are me and I am them.

When did it begin?
Being at each other’s throats
Like a forest fire
Destroying ourselves slowly
Yet the end nowhere in sight

"Why do you write?"
                                                                             "Poetry? That's for losers." "Why do you
waste your time writing?"

                                                 Why do I write?
To capture the way the sun reflects off the water. To capture the way ashes glide through the wind. For even a burnt shell of a city can become glittering and soaring with the right words.


Because it is the only thing that stops me from breaking down. It is a way to let my feelings go. Because there is a burning fire inside me. Guiding me to find the right words.

                                                  "Why do you write?"
                                         "So I can live"

Do I care what you think of me?

Do you think I care if you consider me fat, stupid or ugly?

Your opinion doesn't matter to me. It never will.

Or else I won't let you see that it does.

With every hurtful comment, I brake a little more.

I stop feeling.
Stop believing that there can be a better tomorrow.
So every morning I plaster that smile on my face and walk out that door.

I don't let you see how much you hurt me.

Because that would be letting you win.
Because that would be letting you know how much I care about you.
That my love for you is killing me from the inside.
Destroying me more effectively than your words ever could.

So instead I smile and tell the world that I'm fine.
Let them believe that I am made of steel and nothing they say could ever hurt me.

But it does.

And as I cry behind closed doors I feel the knives in my back drive in deeper and the pain in my chest expands.

I know that I can't live like this forever.

Yet the sight of you is enough to change my mind.

You stab me and blame the wound on me.
You shun me and tell me it's my fault.

You call me
Difficult
Stubborn
Cold

Yes, I AM difficult, stubborn, cold.
Why?

Because you are not the first to hurt me.

You are not the first to stab me and clime that it is your blood drawn by my hand.

You are not the first to try to break me.

But I will tell you now, I will not Brake or Bend or Bow to you.
I am NOT yours.
I am mine. Mine.

And as long as I stand on my own two feet I will not break.

If I have to crawl away, if I have to destroy you I will.

I will be free.

Because even if you destroy me you can never take me away from myself.