I hope I die
I hope I die
I hope I die
i hope I die

I HOPE I
DIE

Love + Depresion =
Healing.

Depression - Love =
Alone.

I was born.
Got first tooth.
Said first word.
Blah. Blah. Blah.

Grew up.
Got bullied.
Got depressed.
Started to cut.
Wrote stuff.
Wrote more.
Killed self.

What did I write?

“I wish
I would die.
The story of
My life.”

My feelings?
They are gone.
For you anyway

I still love you,
I just don’t think you love me.

So here I am,
Writing how I feel.
But you dont give a ****.
No.

You only care for your blackened heart.
My pink one is nothing to you,
Am I right?

No longer do I feel special.
Wait.
I lied.
I am The Prtector.

I will protect Him.
And with Him,
Everyone else that deserves it.

Am I truly nothing?
Or did they lie?
No, they are my family;
They wouldn’t lie to me. . . .

Wow.
I am nothing to my family.
Why exactly?
Because I have an opinion.

Look at me.
I am crying.

My pain, it burns.
But that’s okay,

I’ll love you anyway.
I’ll let you hurt my heart.
I’ll let you steal my soul.
I’ll let you burn my brain.
I’ll give you everything

As long as you promise me this:
Don’t cut my vessel.

She was only 12.
When she killed herself.
She was so afraid.
She was scared to wait.

So that fateful day,
Came and took her flame.
No one came to say,
“Kid, I’m sorry for the way
I treated you now,
You’re dead I’m feeling bad now,”

They looked plain and dry,
She knew they wouldn’t cry.
But she asked herself,

“Why
Did I have
To
DIE?”

You ask me,
“What’s wrong?”

I was about to say,
I’M FINE.
But instead I said this:

“Your ruling over
My life is
Wrong.”

I wanna die.

I don’t know why?
Tell Me Why.

The cherry trees blossom pink,
As the grass beams a brilliant green.
The apple trees are full of white flowers,
Some days, sun fills the hours.
But yet here I stand,
In the rain, once again.
I still enjoy the luscious land.

Yes, the rain pours
Like the tears on my cheeks.
But be astound;
After the rain
There is much more beauty,
And much less pain.

Depression is a burden,
Just as life is cruel.

Though I have the tendency
To drag a blade across my
          Soft,
                            Thin,
                                               Scarred,
Flesh....

Your words shoot through me
Like a bullet at maximum speed.

The happiness
Drains from
Me like
Water from a
Hose.

My mother is upset;
I comfort her.
My father is angry;
I calm him.
My youngest sister is scared;
I calmly comfort her.

I tell my mother:
I am bisexual;
She tries to beat it out of me.
I tell my father:
I cut myself;
He yells and screams til my ears bleed.
I tell my middle sister:
I am broken;
She hugs me and says,
That’s alright.

Black and white.
What’s the difference?
One is darker? Lighter?
One looks deep, the other looks pure?
I see nothing.

Male and female.
What’s the difference?
One is smaller? Bigger?
One is more shy? More outspoken?
There, again! Do you see it?

14 and 18.
What now?
One is greater? The other smaller?
Both are even, what is wrong?
What you are is wrong.

Screaming and yelling
Fighting and warring
Begging and pleading
Anger and madness
Fear and jealousy
Depression and sadness
But it’s all in her mind.

Now I understand
When people say,
“The quietest people
Have the loudest minds,”.

Now I understand it.

She sighs,
And thinks,
(Only one more day.)

She smiles,
But knows,
(It’s only fake.)

She cries,
And hides,
(Will they notice if I die?)

She writes,
And kills,
(Goodbye.)

The wind whispers
A silent song.
The grass sways
To the rhythm.
The trees wrestle
With the leaves.
The wolves howl
To their moon.
With all this,
Is the simple breeze.
Reminding me:
I can be happy.

But as I turn around
Towards the tiny house
I see my mother sulk and cry.
As I wonder why
It hits my mind:
She is sad,
For I took my life.

I call to her,
Though I know she wont respond.
She cannot hear me.
I’m just a ghost,
Listening to a silent song.

She sang a silent song to me.
A song that makes me feel free.
A song I never want to forget.
But a song I forgot,
Because of debt.

Kiss me goodnight
I hope you’ll sleep tight.
I’ll be alright
Just not in sight.

Don’t worry about me
Don’t worry where I’ll be.
Soon you’ll see
Things will be great without me.

So kiss me goodbye
I think I’m ready to die.
Just look back and sigh
You loved me and that’s alright.

Close your eyes
And just remember:
My last goodbye.

You’re a rose among many thorns
They say
Well let me tell you
They’re wrong.

I’m not beautiful
And I’m not precious
I don’t come in different colors
I only come in one:
An envious green.

I’m sharp,
Not soft.
I’m edgy,
Not pretty.

I’m all bite,
No bark.

As God made me
He whispered,
“You’re special,”.

But as he set me on Earth
The devil took hold
And placed a shadow on my heart.

And that’s how
A beautiful monster
Was born.

The rose
May have petals
Soft as silk
Might be luxurious
And pure like milk.

Full of beauty
Full of love
Might look weak
But it is tough.

You forget
About its thorns
And you forget
What they’ve sworn:

“Evil and lust,
Hate and less trust.
Love is no good
When life is broken,
Like it should.”

The rose’s beauty
Isn’t real.
The rose’s hate it.

You ask me,
How my day went:
I say great.
How my friends are:
I say good.
What I learned in class:
I say a lot.
If I’m okay:
I say I’m fine.

You asked me,
How my day went:
(It ******)
How my friends are:
(I don’t have any)
What I learned in class today:
(How to hide)
If I’m okay:
(Not at all)

I want to be free
Like a bird.

I want to spread my wings
And fly away.
I would fly so high
The stars would whisper my name.

I want to be free
Like a bird.
But I’m scared to leave my cage
Because a ghost blocks the way.

My heart.

Made of stone,
Cold like ice.
Broken glass,
Kills me.

Torn paper,
Burned to ash.
Black and white,
Don’t choose light.

Give me life,
Or I’ll be dead.

Look at me.
I look happy.
Now look inside.
I’m broken.
My heart is broken.

When he looks at me
My heart leaps into infinity
My soul smiles with a beautiful brilliance
My chest aches with love
My mind swirls like a hurricane
My stomach tightens with anticipation
My whole structure goes rigid
My smile sings a brilliant tune
My eyes brighten like a thousand suns
My everything goes wild for you

But as I breathe the breath of despair
I see the truth in the air
As I realize on my own
I mean nothing to you.

Her heart is but a song
Played out of tune
Her soul is but a train
On the wrong track

She is yet to discover
That life is but a test
Never to know the answers
She will always pass the test

She feels of but a nothing from thin air
Like their is no one to care
She feels as if the shards of her heart
Are cutting through her soul
She feels the tidal wave of doubt
Sinking her courage into the sand
She can hear the ghost of herself
Only as a whisper in her ear
She feels like a song
That has grown weary
She feels as of a poem
That is but words on paper
She feels the fire of anger grow
But she only screams inside
But she always knows
That she has the loudest mind.

Her hear like glass,
Broken of course.
Her skin like paper,
Cuts so smoothly.
Her mind like thorns,
It hurts to think.
Her eyes like rain,
For it never stops pouring.
Her soul on fire,
Because she burns inside.

Roses are red
Yet blood shares the same resemblance
Violets are blue
But dead bodies are too
My heart is pink
But it is also cold

You whisper in my ear
My thoughts
And every fear

You know all my weaknesses
You see every flaw
You know all my secrets
You see all my scars

You tell me there is no future
And force me to believe in nothing

You tell me not to speak
Not to raise my hand
You tell me just to smile
Even though none is there

I am but your puppet
Nothing but a doll
You force me to want perfection
When I have none at all.
      
                    —Bella Crosthwait

With a smile
Made of pearls,
And her eyes
Filled with oceans,
Her skin
Fair and perfect,
A beauty
Beyond compare

She carries the weight,
Of a million suns
Her body aches,
With the weight alas

Her heart of glass,
Fragile but big
The cracks from her past
Are but shards from the fall
The fall that had shattered her
But not her all

Once again she climbed her mountain
So she could put back together
The final beautiful peice

              —Bella Crosthwait