(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.

i don’t just crave validation,
i need it.
i need it like some people need a drink in their hands,
i need it like it’s the cigarette between my lips.

it’s the air in my lungs,
my food and my drink.
it’s not just music to my ears—
it’s the only sound i hear.

i know i’m not your favorite,
not really.
but you told me i was,
three months ago.
and i wrote that in my journal.
i etched that in my heart.

i hold up my poems,
these nonsense words i call art,
and i need a compliment,
i need a hug.
so that i know i’m not just some girl,
the girl you whisper about when she’s not there.
so that i know
there’s a reason i give and give.

so that i know i’m someone’s favorite.

I bite.
Not with teeth.
with silence,
with sharp glances,
with walls built higher than your reach.

I’m not cruel.
I’m just tired
of being kind first
and torn apart second.

You call it attitude.
I call it armor.
Because being soft
never saved me.
It only made the fall hurt more.

So I speak less now.
Agree less.
Trust less.
I pull away before someone has the chance
to walk out first.

It’s not that I don’t want love.
I’ve learned that even “I care about you”
can come with conditions.
Even soft hands
can leave bruises
you can’t see.

I bite
because once,
I didn’t.
And it nearly broke me.

It really terrifies me, you know? The fact that you already know me so well and eventually you'll know me inside and out. Letting people in has never been an easy task for me. I always hated the idea of the other person having an upper hand, something to hold over me. You know my favorite songs and how my eyes will light up if you were ever to turn them on in your car. You know my favorite books and the parts I read more than once, just because they were that good. You know how I like my poetry, emotion so tense and raw you can cut it with a knife. You know the way I awkwardly laugh when I can't find the words to explain my thoughts to you. You know what I don't like about myself, but more importantly, you know what I love about myself. You know of the things I don't really like to talk about and you understand, you understand the way I've hurt. You know the movies I like and which ones I have on replay. You know that on most days, I'm one wrong move away from insane, but you like me anyways. You know that I tell a lot of pointless stories but you still look at me with a fire in your eye, as if I'm telling you your favorite story from when you were a child. You know of my dark past but you also know of my bright future. You know of the way I once hated myself and beat myself up, you now know of the way I love myself and treat my body like a temple. You know of the stupid stories from when I was a child and you somehow find them funny. You know of my goals, my dreams, and where I hope to see myself one day. You know of my flaws, my imperfections, and my little mishaps. You know of the weird habits I have that I would rather not have most people aware of... I must ask, "Why me?"

mirror mirror on the wall, whose the fairest of them all?
break me down until I hysterically cry
call me ugly, then sing me a lullaby.
show me the beauty in what I'm not
then control my every thought.
Darken my days and turn my sky grey
Help me starve to take my pain away
mirror mirror, what do I do?
To fix the flaws you told me to.....