Lines randomly surface from the chaos called my mind
then
         in the dark of the night
i stitch them together
                                  piece by piece,
                                  line by line
       just as a seamstress would

but when day comes

demons and monsters alike
                                             attack
ripping through my creation
                             much like Cinderella's evil stepsisters did the night of the ball

as day turns to night
and
night turns to day

the process repeating

until armed with a silver needle and a red string
i piece it together for the final time

now it stands in front of me.
and i watch as
it joins the many pieces that have journeyed through hell.

I am torn.

Lines have been drawn for me.
Lines for me to exist in.
Lines for me to follow.

My life planned out by society from day one.

As children we were told to color in the lines.
The grown-ups were talking about coloring books, right?

Who knew such a simple instruction could become so sinister.
Who knew it would one day control our lives.

We're supposed to fit in these boxes.
But what if we don't?

You  sent me running into the night
taking my painted picture with a twist,
blood bleeding down my wrist.
My painted picture had a twist
My paint brush; a razor
My canvas: my wrist

You can be mad that I lied, but you can't be mad that I didn't tell you.
I am a million and one secrets wrapped only in flesh and blood.
You see the original drafts, the ramblings of my frantic mind, and no one has seen those, other than the trash.
I trust you more than anyone and I've shared the deepest parts of myself with you. You know my secrets.
I'm laid open in ways I've never been before and I'm scared.
I need my secrecy, I revel in it. I live in my darkness.
This is the farthest anyone has ventured into my mind and you've bravely ignored the warning signs posted just behind my eyes and every step along the way. And no one has done that before.
Eventually you'll get stuck on something and maybe run like everyone else has. Please tread carefully, The ground is unsteady, the silence speaks and the dark chaos reigns as king.
The only armor I've ever has against them is the ink stained paper I've wrapped myself in with my pen as my sword.
You've stripped my defenses from me and I feel lost without them.
Maybe you'll stay and fight, the brave and adventurous warrior I've come to know you as.
Maybe you'll run like those before you and leave me to piece my armor back together and ready myself for battle once again.
The ones before, the ones who turned around, the scared and frightened ones, they'd taken a piece here and there, keeping a trinket or two. They'd never braved the darkness of my mind, kept under lock and key, hidden away in caves and underwater, pieces littered along the landscape. You get closer with every word you read and this land fights back.
The warrior has conquered the king, the queen awaits in the castle.

Koleba,

Although you've been through heaven and hell,
Riches and rags
you've been tortured, beaten, blackened and blue
your family, friends and life; all gone

You survived the age,
this time of pain
you are now set free,
forever in peace

Goodbye, my little butterfly

My first kiss was on a Wednesday in a third-period math class.

I like him.
                 But the situation was complicated.

He had told me weeks ago he was going to kiss me.

When I asked him why he said:

"Because my words can no longer describe what I feel anymore."

But for weeks I had avoided it, pushed it off, too scared.

But one night I finally decided I was going to let him, to kiss him.

Our lips barely touched but it was my first

I spent the rest of the class trying and failing to focus on my work.
He couldn’t focus either.

Instead, he spent the class teasing me.
His goal was to make my face as red as possible, he succeeded.

I thought about it for the rest of the day.

We kissed again the next day after lunch.
That Saturday we spent the afternoon stealing kisses when we were hidden.

My biggest fear may be being only mediocre.
I want to live while I'm alive.
I don't want to live on dreams and die empty without adventures and stories to share.

But my greatest fear could only be fear itself.
I don't know.
I've never known for I haven't lived yet.

Here's to the one who will never know my true feelings
He’s saved me from myself
He can tell my story better than I can tell it myself
He knows the secrets lurking behind my smile
He’s the one who loved me when I couldn't love myself
He put me back together when I fell to pieces
He cared when no one else did
Never judging me
I was able to trust him
But my feelings will remain buried
Forever...
I’m sorry I couldn't tell you, I was scared.
So here's to the one who will never know.

I will rip the storm from the sky and bring it crashing down around you. Then you will truly understand the storm in my eyes.

I will thread my fingers through the sky and stand before you, dripping and stained by stars. Then you will see the constellations scaring my veins.

I will envelop you in the passion my heart holds. The heat reminding you how fiercely I could've loved you.

But then, as the weather calms, you will fall to your knees, lost at sea, finally understanding how bad you hurt me.

What if i told you that
-the night kills me
-that it hurts me to be alive
-that my blades just across the room
-that sometimes a blades my only friend
-that most wouldn't care if I died tonight
   and no one really cares about me
What would you do?
would you tell me I'm wrong?
Scream at me for even thinking such a thing,
Or would you just walk away like everybody else,
confirming my fears?

"I love you."
just three words
alone they mean nothing
but together they mean everything
from the special person, from you
they mean eveything

I think that I shall never see
The scars disappear from within me
although they may fade,
millions of stories are left untold
between gashes shinning blood red
the paths of destruction are shown
Although poems are made by fools like me
the soldiers left scars in me

Hello, my name is Alice and I was killed on my twenty-fifth birthday by a good man with a bad soul. He was crazed and every year on his birthday he would go to his birth place and **** the number of people as the second digit of his age, if it was one like it was this year he would add up both digits and **** that many people. This year he was turning thirty-one so he killed four people; I was the fourth. I got in a couple of good hits, not enough to hurt him but jut enough to slow him down. Just as he was finishing he said that he knew that I wouldn't reach the afterlife, be it Heaven or Hell; I would walk the earth as a ghost. So he invited me to assist him in his birthday tradition; so now I wander the earth choosing victims for next year.
Goodbye... For now.

I want it to show
I want red eyes,
           tear stained cheeks,
           ******, bruised knuckles
I don't want these echos in my head at 2 a.m
I don't want these images burned to my eyelids anymore
I want to wear it, to show it
I want it to cover me, to surround me like it did my parents
I want it to show but I hide it
                  So they don't worry

the girl who was so strong, broke
with tears streaming down her face
cracks began to appear in her facade
similar to the ones on her wrist
the world watched on in horror
at how much she had kept hidden
her smile faded, the world figured out
just how much pain a smile can hold
her smile held all the pain, suffering and torture she endured
her last breath left her and her smile froze
the lesson learned will soon be forgotten
when the society we live in
finds another lost soul to pick on

Silence kills
because the boy locked in his room
lets his thoughts run lose and get the better of him every night but he suffers in silence
so no one has to carry the burden he thinks of himself as.

Late at night a book lays open
words scribbled across the page
Regret
Hatred
Loneliness
Sadness
A pen hovers over the page
as he thinks of that one special girl
whose love chased it all away
and scribbles over all the hate, regret and loneliness
with one word...

I know you think your eye are nothing special,
But I disagree.
I love that they light up when you’re happy or when the light hits them just right and they aren’t just brown anymore.
They turn gold.
They shine and sparkle with amber flecks.
They turn chestnut,
The color of the tree we shared lunch under.
They turn the color of your favorite chocolate candy, streaked with caramel.
They turn to color of the coffee you drink in the morning.
They turn the color of the hot chocolate we shared one cold Friday morning.
And all these different shades of brown.
I especially love when they light up because of something I did.

They remind me
Of warmth,
Of your hugs,
Of a lot of other things.
All are good.

I want to be the villain.
I want to be the hero.
I want to be the rebel.
I want to have lived and loved and died happy.
I want to die old.
I want to die young.
I want to burn and thrive and spark and fizzle and explode.

I'm conflicted and my mind is a mess.
But maybe I thrive from chaos.

I want to be somebody.
I want to be nobody.
I want to be crazy.
I want to be free.
I want to be a poet, a writer.
I want to greet death with open arms.

I want to make mistakes and learn and live and regret.
I want to be thrown out on my ***, helpless, fighting to live and survive.
And I want to make it.

I want love.
I want hate.
I want happiness.
I want sadness.
I want adventure.
I want regret.  
I want life.
Death.
And everything in between.

I want to be me, but what happens when I don't know who me is?

12:08 AM

I have people to talk to but would they understand?
Would I be able to articulate my words and untangle the mess that my thoughts are in?
Would it stay the same or get lost in translation?
Would it make sense?
Would they understand that I'm lost at sea?
Lost in the waves crashing through my veins?
Would they even care?

I wanted to write you something but I couldn't find the words.

My heart beats in my chest.

And blood runs through my veins.

I'm alive but why am I not living?