Hello all my wonderful friends and talented poets, I am seeking advice on the following poem. I find it challenging to edit. Thank you all, for your help in advance.


Lost, and no one is searching.
Not for me,
                   definitely not,
I'm just an "Orphan", and so you seem to see.

I'm scared of the upcoming events.
I'm at a loss for words that are heavy—lead...
Leaflet
of page flips,
a collection of what I can't prevent.
I, it's my expense.
~
I, I bend until I break because of things like this.
No one gets it,
No one will ever get this.
People I live with,
Say that I just need to "believe in myself, and be positive",
Again,
They don't get it.

I just write a lot; I just write...
I have a lot on my mind.
I hate the idea of moving.

The sight,
of a suitcase makes me go blind.

I wish I could spill my eyes
~ like ink ~
There are words I need to write, words have become a monster in my life, crawling up my spine, like waves, ebb, and flow - walls of wakes. I'm drowning in this lake, the weight pressed against me—the cracked skull, and my peeling
mind,
Nothing feels right,
they're all I can think
~ of, words, words enough to make me sink.
Into my hollow chest deep,
and empty.
But inside
my lungs find
a return together, and my diaphragm
fighting—like the closing mouth of a dying-clam.

So far away,
To a University
and Dorm-room stay,
I'm quite a fog, no definition-no importance—I fade
In the grey.
I fade away, every **** day.
Take it all away?
Silly me...
"No, stop being negative", they will say.

It feels like another Foster home,
I just want to go,
disappear - collapse into the undergrowth.
But inside I've never been so low.
Famished, insatiable, and ravenous, the beast still grows.
Chewing through what I've created for you,
To -
Just cut my tongue, and slice my toes
trying to hold.
On to the walls as they slip from my fingertips,
I fold.
Into my brain - filled with holes.
Into myself, a mystery—a candle melting without a flame, a game, that gets dull, and so old.
I've lost again, on this, I've been,
'Ashton' without
a doubt,
My words, I know -
My words know,
no woe.
Losing your interest, I'm only a muddled groan.
A man who is such a child, has to find a way to become grown.

I've no certainty,
Certainly, I cannot keep...
What I cannot see,
I cannot see where I'll be,
Who'll stay? Nobody?
Who would want to stay in my life?
No one needs to say that I,
have become a joke,
and as I choke, I know,
I'm not funny...
~
Nobody?
Not even me.

Hey,
I guess it's okay?
They don't stay.
It's always been the same.
My mind's leaving me.
Nothing will ever change.
All my life, I've been drifting, deranged. Slowly, I fear that I may
never find a refrain ~
That I'll love to be in this state
of mind, so insane.
—They never really did, and slowly,
Through my fingers, they...
Slipped.
Away.
From me,
and my weak grip, white knuckles behind the bleed.
- I wouldn't lie, I tried -
everything...
but it was my weakness that gripped
so I slipped'
like they did.

I guess,
I'm just going to have to get used to this.

I swear, I've been,
Lost, now I'm even more lost when
...I'm searching.
I'm looking
From outside of myself—in.

My ribs open,
I'm an open book, but now, I'm a loose-leaf—dropped with a pen,
~
I, to not be picked up again.

My skin is paper thin,
Go ahead take a look right in?

See what's really inside of me?
That my heart is just too big, to bear its own beat.
Maybe -
Maybe - my wounds will bring you to me?

I have so much love to give,
I cannot keep it contained within.

My heart is exploding,
and I know it...
This life is no longer mine to live.

Why do I feel like this?
Everything is going great, it is.
Yet something is amiss,
I'm reckless, I try, and end up defective.

I feel like I am obsolete.
           and when I fall asleep,
                           I don't even want to dream.
Thinking about more than I can think.
I've been getting better at buying,
The lies between
the pages of a book without a spine - me,
getting better at hiding
that I, I'm just, weak,
I'm obsolete.
Hung up by the seams,
~
A nail in the wall holding me.
A puppet without strings,
The nail has a name, 'PTSD'.
Hang me in the hall,
Watch me drop down, and fall
~
On my face in the heat,
Watch my colors-fade-to-grey
as they blend in the bleed.

A painting of melting color, that drips, and drips,
No worth, I'm worthless...

I'm just that foster kid from the streets.
The one that no one needs,
I don't want to be,
Believe me,
I woke up, and don't want to be me,
I just want to be free.

By: Ash

my mother always told me i was too giving
but she doesn’t realize she made me that way
she gave everything away
even my name

my mom wanted to name me eviana
my dad wanted to name me zara
but my sister wanted a sister named olivia
so my mom gave that to her

she always told me it was okay to give
but to a certain extent
she told me
it’s okay to be a giver
you don’t need to receive every time
but sometimes
you should

i was 15 when i gave a boy almost every part of me
and even when he left
he hardly gave one piece back

i was 6 when i wrapped my brothers birthday gift
he was turning ten
i used two rolls of tape
when he opened it he laughed
you can’t give me a gift that i gave you
and so i replied with
why not?

i was 12 when i came home with a report card
with two C’s on it
i thought i did good
so i gave it to my father
and he didn’t even glance at me
he exhaled
and asked me why i couldn't be like my sister

every time i go out with friends and the check comes
i’m the first to grab it
it’s just a meal or a drink
it’s not a big deal
until one day we’re at dinner
and i'm two dollars short
"can someone spot me on this one?"
and everyone stays silent
that’s when its a big deal

i spent the majority of my life giving
and hardly receiving

but that’s not what my mother taught me
it took me years to realize that my mother taught me to be a giver
but not everyone has my mom to teach them that, too

Stars and slingshots
Hot rocks flying through the sky
Matter blinking at me non-stop
Doesn’t matter were alive

Expanding blackness or bliss
Darkness that I can’t resist
Black holes and myths
Shards of lights and comets

Surviving on the one round stone I’m capable of breathing
Stumbling around with no money desperate for a meaning
Corrupt with greed and corporate crime
Dead presidents more powerful than the one that’s still alive

Money is divine
The bank is god
Stealing is a crime
When the rich are getting robbed

It’s complex but it’s primal
A thirst to have the most
Spit in the faces of your rivals
Stash away and hoarding paper notes

Consumer capitalism is a miracle
Built a world connected
But made us all so cynical
We sit in mansions miserable

It’ll only end when the sun and sky collapses
***** us all in whole
Won’t be a god to grace you
You can’t cash in your worthless souls

By then we’ll probably be somewhere else
Where the wheels keep turning
Crushing the poorer and helping ourselves
On and on until the universe is burning.