I realized today that it's been about 6 days of summer, and I wish I was back in school already.

the butterflies swarm her, in utter beauty
and her insides are just turning to black
again
the virus has returned
the butterflies begin to melt away
one wing falling off, there all to human like screams filling her ears,
then she notices blood plunging from there wing that was left,
and as she watches her mind scrambles and blinks there gone,
and she is there with the blade again
remembering there utter beauty
as she plucks away at her scarred skin

Memories embedding her soul
Attacking her flimsy mind, and solid walls
Imperfection plaguing her upmost desire
Truth frightening her to the inner core surrounded by demons
IT being there and here and everywhere

With no escape,
One must deal with issues inside
The conflict inside unannounced to your glare
Your judgments all wrong
Enlightenment that she was entitled to the whole time, just realized

Her walls had blocked her from truth
The hidden one is reawaken
And her suspicions come true
With no hiding it
It is here and now and there is no running away
She must fight

The conflict now brought to the skin
Rage, fear, sound
Infects her entire being
An eruption like a volcano
One that had been silent for all too long
Redemption and revenge,
They flood through her veins

She is back
Here and now
Nowhere for her to run
Facing the conflict that was once hidden
Now contemplated
Now spoken of

When does the pain end?
I don't want it to end cause then I get happy but then I sink down again,
and it's like why are you teasing me happiness?
but if you want to be happy just be happy. Stop thinking and be happy skip, laugh, smile for ***** sake, really smile.
but I can't.
you can.
your just scared to.
so? your allowed to be scared.
Not of things like that be afraid of spiders or something.
I can't.

twists around my body in an all encompassing movement
holding my heart
with a wicked little smile and a twinkle in it's eye
and tempting me to come closer and closer
closer closer
it whispers in my ear
the light it had drowned me with
that was sweeter than honey
was
snatched away
I trip
but realize moments later that I had been pushed
and the hand stretched out towards me now
it was the temptation
would I dare take it?

She asked the boy, "Why don't you like me so much?"
The boy, "You made yourself a personality."

She hadn't realized until moments ago that others her age, do not think the same way.
That her peers she saw day to day, were so much more different.
She was an oddity.
and when she was told she had a good soul, she couldn't fathom the thought.
Because the little monster had dominated.
and her soul, was no where to be found.

how is it okay that the people we elect, the people that demand my respect,
are just as morally corrupted as the rest of us?
You ask me to give you respect but, where is my respect?
I don't care if you find me rude.
I will not give you respect when you look down on me, or others for their appearance, or how they talk, or their sexuality.
I refuse to give you respect when you try to shove your beliefs down my throat.
Why should I give you respect because of your tittle?
How do I know you earned that?
On the other hand where do I get off, suspecting that you didn't earn that tittle, that placement of power?
aren't I just as bad as the person who would demand it, as I judge that you don't deserve respect?
Where is the line?
all too vague,
is respect demanded, or earned?
or a courtesy?

why is it that I can act fine, I can impersonate the happy...
and yet I can never feel it.
Is it that being content is being happy?
I felt it once.
I can remember it in an old memory.
I was the only one at the park, where most of my summer was and still is spent,
it was a fall day.
All the leaves had turned color, but not yet fallen.
I was about to go to a football game.
I had some time to spare.
So I joined the lonely swings.
It felt as if, one day I could breathe.
I had forgotten everything, and it was just the rapid squeaking of the old swing, and the wind at my ears.
My face, and ears getting bitten by the cold.
And my heart feeling warmth for the first time in a year and a half.
I jumped off that swing, when I could no longer get any higher.
Then I walked to the game.
Back to reality.
3 years ago.

you asked me what have you learned?
I learned that next time I can't tell anyone that i won't be here tomorrow.
I learned that if I use wrist bands no one will ever know.
I learned that people do see scars on your thighs,
I learned that my "zoning out" can no longer occur.
I learned how to shove a fantastic smile on my face,
I learned how to add light to my eyes,
how to laugh and make you believe it.
I learned how to imitate.
I learned that I will end by myself.
that there will be no goodbye.
I learned that when I say I don't care im beginning to feel it.
because this numbness hasn't gone away in a while.
I learned that it won't go away without help.
And I learned that im not strong enough to ask for help.
So, it is shoved down my throat.
                                              while my smile is plastered upon my face.
I have yet to come up with the answer to your question.
the, WHY?
they plague my mind. But I cannot let this lie waver.
I had already attempted once.
just didn't succeed.
I have yet to find a moment where I don't regret waking up.

Can silence substitute for peace?

I would say my heart crumbled, broke just a little bit more when I saw you, heard what you screamed into my face, but I can't seem to find my heart.
Because the numbness has kind of won this time.
And the darkness, well it's like a best friend, holding my hand always there.
Just for me.
to fall into.
but this time,
I didn't get back up.
now, expecting this, I can only assume it is my way of finishing it off, before my body actually decomposes.
before they try to awaken my dead heart.
before I see their laughs tear through the raw throats of them all.
Before I hear, the screams for sanity.
before they realize what I had been asking for the whole time.
before they compare me, add me too,
that all to common statistic.

the father.
who buys beer, over the needed milk,
the one who screams and yells of ******* hating life so much,
the father who talks and wishes of suicide,
the father who says he loves you but regrets having children in all,
the father who explains to the daughter that indeed, she will never be the favorite.
that she will never be good enough in either of their eyes,
that she is as good as ****.
The mother.
who is jealous of her daughter.
the one who, can't bare to look at her daughter.
the mother who screams, and threats, and pushes the daughter just down so much farther down.
into the suffocating water,
that drowns out her every wail for help.
the one who has no idea of the scars that bare her daughters body.
The mother who loves the others, oh so much more, the ones who have yet to finally disappoint her the way the daughter had.
the Brothers.
the sister.
all mixed up in pain, confusion, and love.
The family portrait is all smiles,
where everyone is in the pleading hands of suicide, the all to addicting poison of their choice, and all covering it up.
all in one house.
posing for the camera, and looking as if they are happy.
because that is what they were trained to do.

how is it she asked, my love, that what I desire so much is selfish?
I understand, I suppose,
but isn't it selfish of you to not let me finally get my escape? how is it wrong of me, that you simply aren't enough, that you in fact,
add to my festering wounds,
how is it selfish, when I was already gone?
your telling me that by not breathing oxygen anymore, that that is when I had left you?
how?
she does not understand.
but wouldn't it be when she no longer cared to wake,
when there was no longer anything left in her to hide her pain,
to hide the scars,
to hide those red slices,
across her pale flesh,
how is it that she does not have the right to let her body decompose,
how is it wrong of her to want that,
when there Is already nothing left inside?
the action of pulling the trigger,
or gulping down all those pills,
or jumping,
is nothing.
because she was already gone.
so, how can you stare into her eyes,
and not see that all it is she had was a pulse?
that the "light" in her eyes,
is just a reflection of the naïve hope you all hold.
of the shade you refused to remove all those years ago.

i slip down this slippery ***** with her, and look her in the eyes just after our bodies slam into the gravel at the bottom of that steep *****.
and i slam her face against the ground, over and over and over again.
until it is just broken skull fragments, and mush for a brain,
and i stumble back,
realizing the damage i just did,
so i run.
and fall.
and crumble.
to laughter.
hysterical laughter.
she is gone.
but, she had already been gone, her carcass is now ruined.
what a good job i have done.
now she cannot return.
yet,
when i awake
she is still
there
looking back
at me
in that mirror
that seems to always mock me.

the numbness well it invades my soul, as I sit here and gaze at my two friends laughing, and smiling, and being innocent.
ii feel it creeping under my skin,
clawing it's way back inside,
scavenging for any bits of pieces,
to chew up and throw away,
I can feel it, whispering that your not good enough to be that happy, that you will never be able to view a simple, laugh the same way again.
that the glimpses of happiness through others eyes, will torture you,
that you indeed are not alright,
that your memories will come back.
that this numbness will become you, yet again.
that hey this is better than that other feeling.
that other feeling.
I remember now.
oh yeah, the way it would embody my entire being,
the way I fought it,
the way I gave up to it,
to the blade,
to it's infinite promises.
that other feeling.
oh yeah, I remember now, you let it hurt you,
you let it get to you.
why does their comments matter, who gives a ****?
but what my voices keep saying is that well I do.

and then I realize, I would rather despise every breath, every glimpse, every blink, every heart beat, than be numb.
the numbness, doesn't even subside with a blade,
oh how I wish they could stay like that forever in that, pure, bliss, that nonchalant happiness
that moment in which their identities shine through....
the moment in which you, your breath is taken away, and no you do not want it back, but this time you simply do not want to escape their enchantment.

if I took so many pills would I finally fade away
if I ran would they find me
if I dropped, and cried, and let the watch as my final bits of dust flew away, would they see?
if I tied rocks to my feet and jumped would I be found,
if I tied this rope around my neck, and kicked the chair out from under me, would they feel the desperation in my last gasping breaths? will
I finally
be able to exhale?
if I cut all the way, vertical, would I feel the blood leak out of me?
would I feel as if I had found my freedom, once and for all?
if I dared to whisper a word, before I pulled the trigger,
what would I say?
shall I find out?
shall we?
if you opened your eyes what might you see?

I was infected and now the disease is rampaging through my body.
It has taken it's course.
I am now a carcass.
The invisible vultures, have scavenged my body.
I am now a skeleton.
just like before.
just like our society.
just
like
you.

I didn't reply so to say goodbye,
I did it because you were like a mosquito that never got enough blood you would **** the life out of me, and unlike the mosquito I loved you while you did it.
I loved you because whenever I was with you I felt whole, and good enough, and you made me feel again.
but I had to say goodbye.
I had to let myself try to get better on my own.
because I cannot let you heal me, and then leave.
because I knew from the moment my heart felt okay again, that that kind of high would result in a fall,
I wouldn't be able to get up from.
but I didn't reply so to say goodbye,
but it's not helping.
it's oh so much worse.
and they all say its for the best but, no no, what if it's for the worst?
im screaming inside,
my throat is raw,
my voice is no longer here,
it has faded out,
to nothing, like oh so many other things today,
I miss you, so much that I cannot put it into words.
They all said it was for the best, now im a better person.
but you helped,
I could feel okay at some points,
thats worth anything, right?
shouldn't other people who love you want you to be happy?
but, I suppose I agree with them. I suppose being happy at this point would cause my late nights to be more than just pills and a blade.
but, now that he is gone, now that I said goodbye, now that I cannot bring myself to say hello,
I have succumbed to the crash.
and I thought I was bad before but once,
you go somewhere inside of your own head,
where you are the one torturing yourself, and cannot stop,
once that becomes your everything,
and you find someone who made you feel, made your heart flutter,
and then you yourself are the one who gets rid of them, well this is my own fault.
I knew what would happen but somehow thinking, im the one that ended it, it would be better than him saying goodbye?
it is so much worse now.
it is getting to the point where, my smile, my laughter,
aren't covering it,
a point where I truly cannot hold up this façade.
and when people notice, when they say hey, are you okay?
my holy ****,
I drop so much farther down that ******* hole,
I am dragged, pulled to that place where I remember him, and then it is all over from there,
why of course I must escape this ****.

As I sit here, and listen to their words
spewing out of their mouths
the words that I laugh at
the things It appears that I just brush off

the thoughts inside swirl
rage
inflict their pain upon the flesh they hold most dearly to themselves
inflict their confusion upon thyself instead on the one who has brought these memories up yet again

as they pour out,
the next day arrives all to quickly,
the fear I cover up embeds itself underneath my skin, to sizzle,
and waits for the boiling point to arrive,

the speakers seem to be silent today
maybe this smile inscribed on my face isn't large enough,
maybe the reaction wasn't as genuine as they had hoped for,

I laugh at his ignorance,
at my want for someone near to notice,
someone near to be more than someone I lie to with my entire being,
I laugh at my own capabilities,
embarrassed of my naïve ambitions, to think, to want, to hope for,
their eyes to open someday

oh how good I am, at making this pain, seem so miniscule,
so invisible, to their glazed over eyes,
I laugh how I care so much
and it tears me apart, how their approval, means something to me
it sends a ripple of burning acid down my throat
an imaginary knife slicing me apart, while I'm no where's near numb, I feel every slash
and then I realize this is what I'm here for.

stumbling through a rabbit hole, of never ending time,
the flashes ,
they attack her with an undeserved vengeance filled with an otherworldly hate,
they rip her wall of artificial sanity down within a simple grimace,
so she sits.
and stares
all feeling retreating to that special place called imagination.

all to many dimensions away,
she is laughing,
snorting,
her cheeks hurt so bad from laughing yet she cannot stop,
for that smile never leaves her face,
and the pure innocent happiness deep inside of her,
invades their souls,
she says hello,
she lives.
here in this place.

her plastic smile
quite convincing,
has lied,
to everyone, oh they were all convinced, HA!
what a bad girl she was,
that smile, the one he loved oh so much?
oh dearest naïve boy, It wasn't real
on the contrary my friend my good ole pal,
you were just a blind fool.
why of course with the rest of them.

the eyes, those burning eyes,
seem to never leave her thoughts,
always, thinking that maybe that look was meant for her,
was it to be special or something of the ordinary?
this, this, is where her embarrassment comes in,
where she cannot believe she let a boy,
the boys,
matter to her.

this is where she is that shadow in the corner of his eyes,
where she is his ember inside a forest fire,
where she is a drop of water in an ocean,
where she is the sunlight to his photosynthesis,
where she is his base.
she Is his.
and no longer her own.

why it wasn't real sweetheart.
just a façade you relished in.
just a lie you lived.
the places she hid, the realities she buried,
the truths she regretted,
the feelings she cut away,
the other hers,
the other lies and truths mixed,
efforts at her trying to find a reason, a way, a place to stay.
efforts of her finding the power to say
I am me
not at all an anonymous her.

sometimes you get tired.
of waiting for happiness to sprout inside of you again, no matter how many "fun" things you go out and do.
of those comments drowning out the thoughts in your own head until you yet again, go numb inside.
sometimes you get tired of watching people talk about other people,
for no better reason but to, make them feel better about their miniscule, petty little egos,
of people being cowards,
of people thinking that hey this won't matter in 20 years.
of people thinking
that picking on someone everyday won't change their entire being,
their entire future,
life, happiness, love
of believing that its okay to be in agreement with the general opinion of our decaying society, just to be thought of as "cool".
of thinking mediocrity is something to be proud of.
hey sometimes you get tired.
of people.
of their lack of effort.
of their ignorance.
of their ****.
of people thinking it's okay to sit there and watch someone get beaten down by somebody who's really just as fragile on the inside.
sometimes you get tired.
of society's disregard for any kind of just act.
a moral code.
sometimes you get tired of it all.
sometimes you can't take it anymore.
and sometimes
you just get so **** tired of it **ALL

and the boy asked "What was your new years resolution?"
as the girl replies "To be happier."
"Your the happiest person I know though."
as the girl thinks  I should join drama what a great actor I am. as the words almost fall from her mouth, escape and end up dictating her near future, she ***** them back in. to never be told.. whispered to any other soul. what that boy didn't realize was how much it broke her inside to realize no one looks had enough to actually see me.
so she just replies with "ha-ha" and of course one of those famous class A smiles......

so there's this girl,
with a huge grin on her face,
walking down the devils corridor,
her eyes gleam,
with shade of green you've never seen before,

so there's this girl sitting on her bed,
with tears spilling over one other,
and wrists ridden with blood,
her weak hands trembling form the searing pain of her reality,
her eyes they hold your gaze,
the gaze you can't seem to pull away from,

and as you stare,
you still have yet to figure it out,
you still have yet to finally SEE
even right here in this moment that will live on forever through eternity,
this moment that will mean absolutely nothing to everyone and everything else
in this world,
you still do not see.
you still do not comprehend.

so there's this girl walking through the doorway, leading to her inevitable blood bath, her inevitable jump,
with her head held high,
and laughter ringing throughout all their ears,
and generic confidence oozing out of every vein leading them to believe that she truly is confident.
words of wisdom flowing from her mouth leading them to believe that she herself actually uses her own advice,
leading them all to believe that she is strong.

The flicker in her eyes, the slight crack,
finally taking a home run for her heart,
is what they believed her to be brushing something off.
Her retaliation and rude finger gestures make them believe that she HONESTLY does not give one ******* **** as to what they think,
her quieted yells and invisible blows to their sensitive ego's,
convinces everyone that she is bold
she is strong
she is confident
that when she goes home
she does not think about their words
that when she goes home it is a Norman Rockwell scene everyday
that her smile does not leave her face,
that it is imbedded into her entire essence.

so there's this girl walking through her front door,
ready to drop,
ready to fall,
to finally breathe,
yet she cannot.
as their words replay through her head
over
and
over
and
over
and
over
and
over
and
over
and
over
again
she cannot take it.
the slits in her flesh
they are not enough
anymore
well I suppose they never really were

so there's this girl walking up to a mountain

so there's this girl calling the one her heart and happiness lies with,
the one she met through an accident,
the one who's touch she never felt,
the one who's oh so much older,
the one who made her smile through tears,
the one who CARED,
saying that she loves him and is sorry.

so there's this girl throwing her phone away
down to the ground where her body will soon lie

so there's this girl running
off
the edge
and free falling
throughout the
                                                           A
                                                                       I
                                                                                   R
until her fragile body slams against the bottom,
and her last breathe is exhaled,
and her head is finally awoken.

as she sits up in bed,
she realizes that this is what our world has become.
that this is how so many people live their life.
no, this is not living
this is taking one step in front of the other
this is one huge big lie
that never ends
this is not what it should be
yet
it
is
for
all
to
many
so here I end saying
WAKE UP.

your flimsy words and pity goodbyes have made his throat raw,
and yet your eyes still seek for that light, that fading away ember to show you, to prove to you,
your petty soul will be missed,
that this **** you take everyday of every moment will end up making a difference,
will change the world someday,
and will not be for absolutely,
nothing.
that it will matter in where you end up,
after the deed is done,
that being the "better" person in the light of someone else's view,
will make you something more than you are all to clearly not.
and maybe your insignificant glare needs,
a never ending "life" of regret,
a "life" where everything is sliding away from you,
and it all
just
fades
away
to an emptiness unbearable to the innocent, naïve, human,
that allows you to see your actions hurt all to many of those you thought you had "loved"
as your "life" is finally proven to you that it was not something at all but in all honesty it was nothing, nothing at all, just a glimpse of an eternity long grimace,
to show you that your pain had no meaning at all,
that in fact if you had been ecstatic you would be in the same place as now,
so why is it
my pitiful friend
do you
believe,
in his "frighteningly" all to similar shade of white as your devils shade of black?

I'm starting to learn that what you say or think truly does not matter.
what a relief.

hey
hey?
so why do you care?
about what?
anything at all.  no I mean everything, why do you continue breathing? why do you keep walking? why do you hold you head high while everything's, dark?
I don't that's the thing.
what? I don't understand.
I smile, because its an act of defiance,
I laugh because I wont let them think I care, I let them believe it so that I can not care,  i'm loud because they're comments don't compare to what I say in my mind. what about you? Your not so bad yourself.
I think about leaving and how everyone else will fail.

It is not even half way through the year yet, and their words have already began to morph into knives.
the words come flying out so fast, it takes some time to realize, what just took place.
what was just taken.
his stares have already become dreaded.
and his face has already become loved.
yet his intentions are all just one big blur.
and his sentences, all for me, have become bullets, aimed for my heart,
just the spot to ****.
destroy.
end.
and yet his smile, all for me, has become thy sanctuary.

I have written him so many times.
and put it on this site.
or in that notebook.
I have thought and analyzed the "why?"
and came up with no justifiable conclusion.
you etched away my sanity,
stole my innocence,
and yet I still ponder you.
I still care.
no matter how many times I say I don't care, i'm actually thinking about it all day.
I actually let it bother me.
when I see you and her.
I am satisfied.
I am happy for her, that she found someone.
I am happy that it gives me a great reason to not let myself deliberately think about you.
but when I find myself hoping your around that corner,
anticipating it so much,
and then you aren't there...
the disappointment seizes my entire body,
wipes the smile right off my face.
and causes me to internally slap myself.
then when I see you in English,
and you tempt me,
on purpose,
to see if I will take your delicious bait,
I refuse,
I will not fall for you yet again,
I am done with your madness.
I will not let you know that i care for you still,
I will not give you that
satisfaction.
I promise, i do like another, and another.
they are just as perfect if not better.
yet my conscious is still hooked on you.
for some reason i wish i hadn't known.

It never happened before.
no one else's poetry had ever brought tears to my eyes.
not even close.
and then I read yours.
and it happened.
the thing is,
I cannot tell you this.
I cannot say it.
because it reminded me of myself.
it reminded me of my own relationships with older friends.
and so,
the feeling your words made erupt inside me, has never been more resented.
because my bliss, curtain of ignorance was appreciated.
at least in that area.
because it never occurred to me that I could be the one damaging him, not the other way around.
and you see this presents myself with the question, am I really that selfish?
to not even consider, to no to even fathom the concept, that I am what made you fall?

as I sit here in class, everyone in their little clusters talking about how cute the new boy is,
or how much they hate that one teacher,
or how much they don't want to do that awful homework,
everyone so absorbed in their "conversations" that they do not realize how you aren't the one of the loud speakers, so absorbed that no one realizes that your just sitting there,
not jumping up to join someone,
or jumping up to begin an aggressive debate over something unimportant,
so absorbed that they do not realize how this moment will never exist again,
so absorbed they don't notice that you went from center stage to  right in the background,
so absorbed that I realize that they don't realize that the things they are talking about aren't important,
that they won't matter in a few weeks,
that some people do this everyday,
just watch the others humiliate themselves through petty gossip,
just watching everyone engage in heated conversations,
but then again,
these petty talks may be what you need,
,maybe this is what it's suppose to be like you knowing it doesn't matter but, talking about it anyways,
no this could not be it,
but what then?
why did I realize today,
feel for the first time
what it's like to sit by yourself by your choice,
avoid groups of people because you simply don't care what their priorities are,
is this what it's like to be "mature"?
to realize that what is important today won't make a difference tomorrow?
because the thing Is,
what scares me the most,
is that some people wish to not sit by themselves,
they wish to  be in that petty conversation, lead it,
but you see being outside of that meaningless cycle,
has showed me what it's like to just be again
to just sit their knowing that tomorrow, you will sit here agin,
and the day after that,
and so on,
to know that your conversations will change someone,
will make someone laugh for the first time in a while,
will brighten someone's day,
because these are the things that I miss.
the things i wish i had learned,
in school,
to genially make something matter,
but maybe that's the point,
to be given the tools to make a change but o be GREAT enough to initiate the change by yourself.

you look in the mirror and you see something putrid, you look away with disgust, you back away, you look down and you use it.
you do not cry out, you don't scream, you don't fall, or trip, or
hesitate,
you just use it.
and then you feel it,
you feel that emptiness release your body,
you let it consume you entirely,
you don't flee,
or run to ,
you just stay,
you don't regret and you don't think what if?
you
finally you feel better
relieved,
then your sense comes back, and your freedom disappears,
runs away like a little girl from a scary nightmare,
and without your consent it returns,
but
the marks remain,
the evidence of your release shouts loudly to their eyes,
to all their eyes,
so you wonder what if
the person standing right next to you or walking a few feet away has done the same exact thing?
used the same escape?
what
if
they did exactly what you fantasized about just a few minutes ago?
and
you
were to blind to see?
to deaf to hear?
to ignorant to realize?
to selfish to try to even look through their wall?

if you left,
to the icy cold waters,
or to the air, to just lay there limp,
or to the numbness,
or to the sinking away emotions, that will never return,
to the edge of the knife,
to the tip of the gun,
i would miss you.
i would care.
i would feel as if i missed out on an amazing chance to meet someone who i wish knew that did i care.
i would run after you.
i would run for you.
i would live for you.
i would try for you.
i would write for you.
i would.
i would.
i would.
please
my
mysterious stranger,
give me the honor to read your work,
give me the chance to learn,
to crack open your brain,
give me the chance to help.
let me try to understand
let me care
let the world see you
because
your amazing,
and something to be proud of.
because you inspire me.
because of you,
i opened my eyes.

if you need a point to live, why are you here?
does it really matter WHY im, here, can't you just accept my presence,
what if i don't want to make a 'difference'
what if im fine contributing to the ignorant, disgusting society we live in today
why must i need a reason to live, other than to enjoy it all
other than to simply laugh at it
every thing is pointless.
and that's why we all *care.

for oh so long you stayed,
ripping my heart and brain to shreds,
stealing away my innocence,
willing me to do awful, dreadful, things,
that sounded beautiful coming out of your mouth,
you said it was the answer,
and I was foolish enough to
believe.
you said it would help, and it did and didn't.
you said that it would make me feel better,
you pried and pried and I caved.
and let my mind take over my actions.
and let the feelings sink away.
and so you hid,
ran away to a little corner,
making me believe I was free of this addiction, free of your grasp, free of your pounding fists upon my lungs,
and so I tried, and tried and tried and tried,
and it wasn't worth it,
because your drag me so slow that,
half way back, felt just like the beginning.
felt jus like a half real smile, felt like a half way honest comment,
but you see,
your imaginary leave of absence,
led me to believe,
I was out, I was done,
I was
better.
but, maybe you should have just stayed,
because,
now your back,
and while I thought I was climbing, I was sinking,
even lower than before,
where there is no branch for me to use,
where the light, is a figment of my imagination,
so your back, and thriving, feeding off of there beautiful comments,
gaining control through someone else's words, and actions,
so you have retuned.
will you stay, or put me under that spell again?
will you finish your intentions,
or will I prevail?

humanity is like a dish.

it can go through so much, but eventually it's color will fade.
you can reuse it, and wash it and it'll look brand new.
and if you press your knife to hard or slam it down on the table, it could chip.
and maybe you have super glue just lying around, so hey why not?
fix that old plate up.
and it can be put out for anyone,
anyone at al can use it,
and in a store when you decide hmmm should i buy, and take it home or what
you decide on the way it looks, whether it's the right color or size
and when you decide to get rid of it, you decide on how empty that superglue containers been getten
cause that plate was used oh so many times, it's color has faded
and it has more than just a couple chips.
so to the garbage it goes.
and so
you go back to the store to but a new plate, maybe a different color, this time, eh?

i cannot show my poems to anyone in my life.
well poems that matter.
only to one person in my life have i shown the things that matter.
and that one person didn't leave, didn't flee, or run away,
but encouraged me.
and so i submitted a poem about peace in the peace poetry contest.
and oh so many will read, and analyze, and judge it,
and the thing is i was content with it,
yet when i showed it to those few teachers, and was praised,
the content vanished away and replaced itself with self consciousness.
how is it that the things i am most proud of,
the things i care about most,
i do not seem to want to show to those who care?
is this, myself, protecting myself from getting hurt,
or simply myself being to cowardly to let someone who i will face everyday, judge the things that show my rawest emotions?

i wish to hand you this fragile little heart that's never been broken, maybe damaged but never broken.
i wish to hand you this letter with all my confessions upon it, and see if you care or rip it up.
i wish to tell you that your my drug,
that your laugh is oh so addicting,
i wish to tell you that when you laugh at one of my jokes,
it makes me fly away,
like no high ever reached,
like no victory ever experienced,
like no battle finally won after decades of death,
i wish to tell you that when i'm gone, the letter i wrote for you was the hardest,
i wish to tell you that when i look into your eyes,
i do not look away,
i search, search, for that thing you haven't found yet,
sitting right there in your eye is the thing you wish to find.
i wish to let you know that when you fail you do not need to prove anything,
i wish to tell you that i am here, right next to you,
just waiting for that smile.
i wish to tell you that I've found someone else.
i wish to tell you that he was merely a distraction,
for my heart will always belong to you,
even if i never had yours.
i wish to tell you that i'm not fine,
and that yes you were right,
and that yes you are true to your word,
and that you have already reached your goal,
you do not have to go any longer,
for you,
started it all yourself,
your own,
little,
competition with yourself,
and that yes you have already,
                                                                                       won.

if I cried would you then care?
if I screamed and punched would you finally understand?
if I wrote it out for you, on a single white piece of paper, would you comprehend?
if I told you, would you want to run or flee?
if I told you my secrets would you flinch or take my hand in yours?
if I ran away would you, chase after me or laugh?
if I gave up would you then make me try?
if I told you I love you how would you react?
if I told you I'm drowning would you be my savior or would you look away?
if I told you I miss you with every nerve in my body would you smile or frown?
if I just stopped talking, and looked into your eyes, would you know what i'm whispering inside?

is fear what our society lives In today?
oh so many are afraid of not being accepted
afraid of what they will say next,
afraid of what threat they will fulfill,
is it wrong to surrender to fear, oh so many times?
no, no it is not.
because fear is a weapon the corrupt know how to use all to well.
no, no it is not.
because it isn't someone outright pushing into your face, it is only shoved down your throat with an invisible hand.
fear becomes an issue once it is construed with, cowardice.
because the strongest have their fears, but once you start letting fear pull you down and down and farther down,
you become it's *****.
because
is fear truly the greatest power of all?
is it what our society has let lead us?
is fear the thing that decides your actions?
do you let it dominate your every thought?
is fear really the thing in which our world lives in?
because you know that person, who will take any dare, even they feel the little hint of fear before they jump.
is fear what drives that voice in the back of you head?
is fear that force that makes your ignorant fool sling his comments at you so routinely?

My greatest fear is to be remembered for what people thought they "knew" of me.

so here the girl lays, thinking i'm going to be so ******* ****** if he doesn't reply, and then I realize I don't really give a **** if he does or doesn't.
Because hey here I lay ******* some other guy.
because hey here I lay lying to him.
because hey here I lay teasing the hell out of you.
because hey here I lay fantasizing of sunsets and ponies.
because hey here I lay cutting once again.
because hey here I lay ******* some chick.
because hey here I lay picking flowers, while smelling honey all by myself.
because hey here I lay faking a smile to the world.
Because hey here I lay wondering when i'll get caught.
because hey here I lay texting you, while
falling
for
him.

teacher teacher, oh no what have you done as a college girl? What did you do to disgrace your families name? what regrets do you hold, if any? What mistakes did you make? is that man in the uniform as truly honorable as the uniform makes him look? Should I care for that man, respect him because of the tittle he carries, because of the tittle I was told he earned? Should  look up to that man in your little picture frame because he s gone, what things did he truly do or for that matter didn't do? oh my teacher teacher, I have so many questions but, it is not my place to ask but only, to ponder. For my teacher what will become of you, once you leave will my peers remember you for the way you taught, or for your picture frame, which would you want to be remembered for? oh my teacher teacher, I cannot help but wonder what will you move on to? Or wha did that man mean to you, what did he represent, obsessiveness, or smiles or even tears? oh teacher teacher, what secrets do you hold? oh my teacher teacher, why do you do what you do, do you regret this here occupation? oh my teacher teacher all I want is a glimpse of your brain for you are all to complexing than any boy I have yet to me, so dear me me my teacher teacher what is it you withhold , an ending or a chance? or fr that matter is is neither? of my dear teacher teacher, what is it you ponder?

death.
what a beautiful thing.
It has so much power, yet it's one opponent will always win.
death.
it will devastate you, and relieve you of yourself for a bit.
it is all so twisted.
death.
it will make you see things in a whole new light, whether that's a "good" or "bad" thing you decide that by how you react.
or by how you interpret it's intentions.
death.
will scare you and will also enlighten you.
death.
death.
and more
death.
is something to be obsessive of.
is something that will be our end.
so it is your decision, will your
death,
be the thing in which makes your life or the thing in which makes people celebrate it, remember it?
what will your death mean to everyone?
what will your death represent?
do you care?
or
does it even matter?