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Bella Sep 2018
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.
I don’t even remember when I wrote this. I’m assuming a very long time ago. I’m pretty sure I wrote it when I was going through a little rampage. But thankfully it was just a phase^^
Bella Sep 2018
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?
Exact date written unknown.
Bella Sep 2018
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.
This came to me today. I don’t actually know why but it did. 9-5-2018
Bella Sep 2018
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.
I do not know what to say about this one. I wrote it in a recovery center, when I felt like a monster for my mistakes. Yet, I would look in the mirror and I felt... beautiful.
Bella Aug 2018
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
A poem of a girl who was broken, but pulled herself together so she could see her true beauty.
Bella Sep 2018
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.
Yet again, another one of my past poems. I found it only half finished, though, so I suppose you can say it’s also new.
Bella Aug 2018
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
A poem for the lovers who live in the dark, but never apart.
Bella Sep 2018
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.
I don’t really know why I wrote this one. I wrote it last night before I went to bed. I don’t know what it means though...
Bella Sep 2018
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.
I wrote this for someone i choose not to speak of thy name...
I do not remember the exact date.
Bella Sep 2018
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.
Feelings are like the time of spring.
Bella Sep 2018
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.)
9-5-2018
Bella Aug 2018
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.
A poem of a girl’s emotions when no one is looking.
Bella Sep 2018
I wanna die.

I don’t know why?
Tell Me Why.
Wrote this forever ago in some of my worst stages of depression.
Don’t remember exact date...
Bella Sep 2018
I hope I die
I hope I die
I hope I die
i hope I die

I HOPE I
DIE
Exact date written unknown.
Bella Sep 2018
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.”
Exact date written unknown.
Bella Aug 2018
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
The ******* a magic carpet ride through life.
Bella Sep 2018
Look at me.
I look happy.
Now look inside.
I’m broken.
My heart is broken.
Looks can be deceiving.
This poem is an old poem of mine that i just found recently!
Bella Sep 2018
Love + Depresion =
Healing.

Depression - Love =
Alone.
Exact date written unknown.
Bella Sep 2018
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.
Another one of my old poems i found here recently. I don’t really know how i came up with it, but i thought you guys would like to read it!
Bella Sep 2018
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.
I wrote this when I was at my second foster home and was really depressed because of the way the foster mom treated me. I was super suicidal but I didn’t want my little sister to think it was her fault, so I wrote it for her. Clearly I didn’t commit suicide, but I just wanted to post it.
Bella Sep 2018
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.
This poem is about love. My parents are Christian and they always told me that if you are gay then you will go to hell. If you love someone much older or younger then you will burn. If a white woman marries a black man, or vise versa, you will die in hell. Well, I say they are wrong. Therefore, I am no longer the Christian baby girl my parents “raised” me to be. Simply, I am me. I have decided love is love. No matter what kind of love it is.
Bella Sep 2018
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.
Hey guys! I’m not going to be writing much in the descriptions anymore, but i will write in the tags and there will be a date i wrote it on in the description. Thank you!
Bella Sep 2018
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.”
Exact date written is unknown.
Bella Aug 2018
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
I story of my self worth
Bella Sep 2018
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?”
I honestly dont know why I wrote this. Ligit not at all.
I do not remember the exact date written.
Bella Sep 2018
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.
This is about how my parents and youngest sister, Carli, treat me like **** even when i care for them.
But its also about how my younger sister, Destiny (older than Carli), treats me as an equal.
Bella Sep 2018
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.
This is how i feel.
Bella Aug 2018
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.
A girl expressing herself.
Bella Sep 2018
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.
Exact date written unknown.
Bella Sep 2018
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.
A poem I think I wrote in May of 2014, but I found it and recently revised it. It’s about my heart, as it broke the day I went into foster care. I used the rose because it as the last flower I saw when I left, and the first flower I saw when I arrived at my new home.
Bella Sep 2018
The happiness
Drains from
Me like
Water from a
Hose.
I wrote this today in class without even knowing it.
Bella Aug 2018
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.
My sadness as I tell you the story of my first true love. Who never really noticed me, as seen here.
Bella Sep 2018
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.
Exact date unknown.
Bella Sep 2018
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 wrote this not to long ago but I cannot seem to remember when. It was a poem I wrote the day I realized my boyfriend just uses me for my brain. When I got home my mother asked me these questions. The first row is what i answered. The second is the truth.

— The End —