6 years old
loves barbies
plays outside
learning to ride a bike
shes getting taller

9 years old
loves chapstick flavors
walks outside
rides her bike everywhere
she is the tallest in her class

14 years old
loves mascara
runs outside to burn off the cupcake
bike sits alone
she is the biggest in her class

16 years old
loves black
runs lines down her arms, she doesnt see the sun
she drives around for hours thinking about everything but nothing
she is shrinking

18 years old
loves loneliness
runs and runs and runs from herself
she drives around hoping that she will be strong enough to make it home
she is breaking
slowly

20 years old
loves skipping meals
goes running until she feels like she's going to pass out, then runs another mile
she drives around thinking about her suicide attempt and thinks about heading home
she doesn't even know if home is a place or a feeling or if its real
lines going up her thigh now because she found out that wrists make people worry

people don't understand the process of self destruction
it started a long time ago
and it will never end
until she does.

Someone take my mind away from me,

                                    its driving me INSANE.

He makes me write, because he makes me feel so much.

The control he has, he has no clue.

He only sees what he chooses to.

But he can make me smile like no other, and in an instant force my tears to flow.

When I think of comfort, he's number one.

But when I ready to run it's from him.

He makes me write because he seems deaf...

But when I write he is also blind...

Will our circle of ******* ever end?

I want to stay with him forever, and enjoy the beautiful part of him.

Its frozen deep down inside, and when it's thawed I am mesmerized.

Nobody could be sweeter or more understanding.

Nobody could hold me longer.

I think he has demons, as we all do...

But when his peek out, I think it wants to devore me.

Love heals all and I've never seen him lost long...

Yet it does seem often and that gives me cause to think me loving him is wrong.

He makes me write, because he still holds my heart.

He's the only man capable of tearing it apart.

He makes me write and he's still mine.

He makes me write and maybe it will be this way for the rest of our lives.

popularity is so overrated

take your apologies
to the grave with you
because I refuse
to hear
sorry
after each mistake
you promised you wouldn't repeat

If I could be anywhere in the world,
                      I'd pick being in your heart forever.