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Bradley May 2017
Life is nothing but a rainbow,
Nothing but a simple mixing *** of pigment,
But you,
You were my color.
You were my yellow.
You were the yellow bees buzzing in my stomach,
Fluttering, tickling my throat

You were my yellow
The bright yellow lightning bolt in my rainstorm,
Lighting up my grey skies,
Kindling my soul

You were my yellow,
My yellow gold nugget,
The only thing that gives me value,
The only thing to treasure,
To hold

You were my yellow,
The yellow sun pressed against my face,
The collision between my skin and your warmth,
Calming my mind,
Comforting my soul,

But now,
My yellow is gone,
And everything is cold,
Everything is grey
Bradley Mar 2017
Why?
Why don’t you notice?

Why can’t you hear my screams for help?
Why do you ignore my midnight sobs
Echoing off my cold and empty walls,
Bouncing into the dark abyss of loneliness

Why can’t you see my calls for help?
Why don’t you notice my sliced wrists,
Dyeing every long sleeve in my closet
Staining more than just my clothes
Why don’t you notice the red seeping from my socks?
The makeshift bandages overflowing my trashcan,
The seven pairs of now red high-tops overflowing my closet


Why don’t you hear my silent sobs?
Pulling me deeper and deeper into an ocean of tears,
Consuming what’s left of my broken, shattered heart

Why don’t you hear my midnight thoughts,
Pinning my eyes open until the sun rises again,
Pulling me deeper into the cold pit you call exhaustion

Why don’t you see me?
Do you think I bandage my ankles because I cut them while shaving?
Do you think I wear high-tops because they’re fashionable?
Do you think I wear long sleeves and pants because I’m cold?
Do you think that I can’t sleep because of high-school stress?
Do you think that I am fine?

Why don’t you hear my screams for help?
Why can’t you my screams of silence?
Bradley Mar 2017
Shackled to my responsibilities like a dog tied to a tree,
Left to wallow in my own storm of worries and misery,
Enslaved by depression like a prisoner to desolation,
Unlockable, chains dragging at my feet,
Chafing, grinding, bruising my ankles,
Wrapping around my neck,
I gasp for my last breath,
But there’s only one thing that can unlock these heavy chains,
Only one thing that fill my lungs with relief,
Dance.

The dance that breaks my chains like a knife through butter,
Freeing my ankles from the unbearable misery,
Turning my body into a canvas where my feet paint masterpiece,
The dance that blows away my grey clouds,
Filling my soul with luminous music,
My heart beating to the rhythm of my feet,
The dance that fills my lungs with fresh, bubbly oxygen,
Filling me with freedom,
Lifting me off the ground like a pair of wings
Bradley Mar 2017
When?

When did you start limiting yourself?
Counting calories like they were a poison,
Eating nothing but crumbs
Until your cheekbones stick out like rocks under your pale skin

When did you start disposing yourself?
Purging your meals as if they were toxic waste,
While you ditch your food like an ugly prom date,
Flushing bits of your soul down with last nights meal

When did you start calculating?
Counting calories like you were taking a math test,
Subtracting and subtracting until there’s nothing left but
Your empty stomach and even emptier soul

So,
tell me when,
when did you start counting your ribs instead of your tears?

— The End —