I feel numb every time I realize that this life is mine.
I stare at my surroundings unable to feel alive.
This person in the mirror is just a human being,
full of flaws and beauties.
She laughs,
She cries,
She loves,
She lies,
She breaths,
she dies.
Don’t you ever just wonder why were all here?
Yes I question God,
I question like many do.
But don’t you ever wonder where our mind goes after we all die?
All the thoughts in our heads,
All the wrongs we did,
All the times we shared,
I wonder if they’re still there.
I’m not a saint.
I’m more of a sinner,
I enjoy the wrongs that feel right,
But I still feel the pain at night.
Sometimes I talk to myself in my head.
I say “****. Is this real? Is this it? Is this the life that I will live?”
Life is an experience.
So many faces,
And So many races.
So many hearts,
But still so much hatred.
So much love,
Yet nobody can stand to be together for more than a second.
We all live and die for what?
We live to have it all taken away just as we start to figure it out.
Just when the going gets good,
bang
A shot,
boom
A grenade.
We all go some way.

The trust you once held for me within you has shattered into a million pieces.
I cut myself trying to put it back together,
Willing to bleed until the day you forgive me.
Forgive me for all of the lies I told to manipulate you,
Forgive me for all the pain I am now causing you,
Forgive me for making you believe I was worthy of your trust.
I have had to burn down bridges to speak the truth,
I have had to strangle the inner demons that lay within my soul to have the courage to tell you.
And now that I have I’m not so sure if what I am doing is right,
They say telling the truth is always the best thing to do,
But now I have lost the only important person in my life.
This person gave me life,
Without their life I would have taken my own years ago,
I would have let my wrists bleed out into the sink until I felt nothing anymore,
I would have kept chugging that whiskey until I wasted away,
I would have pulled the trigger if you hadn’t left the safety on again.
But I will not give up,
I will not let you slip through my finger tips,
I will not let my dark past decide my future,
I am willing to bleed until you forgive me,
And Until I show you that I do care.

I’m sorry,
I’m sorry for giving you the wrong impression,
The impression that you think I hate you,
The impression that you think I just don’t want to be around you.
You see I am not the one driving this vehicle, I am only the passenger,
The passenger with no seat belt praying to God that we don’t crash,
And who is driving you might ask?
Well that answer is quite complicated you see,
Because the fact is that I can’t see
I can only hear,
Hear her say that I better not talk to you or she will step on the gas,
The gas that makes me shake and cry if I am not able to speak what’s on my mind,
The gas that makes me mispronounce the words that you pronounce to be right,
And every day I profoundly fight,
fight back the tears that I can’t seem to oppress ,
As I am depressed,
Depressed from anxiety and how her grip will never let,
Let go of my life that she seems to possess,
Let go of my right to drive without her being obsessed,
I am fine,
Fine,
A word I use so often to lie to my family and friends about my state of mind,
A word that I use to hide,
To hide the ones I love most from my anxiety,
Because if she ever knew that I could love someone she would crash this vehicle that is life.
so I am sorry that I may not talk to you everyday but I am doing this for you,
For the ones that I love.
And I am sorry if I have cried, slurred my
words, mumbled, or twitched while I have said this rhyme because she is still the one driving my mind.

My ears can hear the words that you are saying,

but my eyes are too busy watching the reality that We are facing.

I’ve been stuck here on this floor, staring up at this ceiling, since I was able to start learning.

This being the ceiling that is stopping me from reaching the potential that God has given me.

I am held down on this black and white carpeted floor by ten thousand pounds of expectations society lays on me.

I am of white privilege so I am expected to have the resources for success.

I am Mexican so i should have the motivation to work hard like the rest.

But according to society my brain was weakened by The creativity and talent I possess.

So doctors force these pills down my throat,

Pills that make me feel dead,

Pills that make me unable to speak what my heart can profess,

Pills that make me believe I am worthless without them,

Pills that make me believe that they are the only things that can give me the life that apparently everybody else wants to posses.

And all for the hope of my success.

The hope that one day I cannot become my parents regret,

The hope that one day I’ll be able to function and grow out of it like the rest,

But all of this is the ideas that the world has drilled into our minds in the prisons called classrooms where we learn to take orders from the officers called teachers as we sit for hours in a strait line until a riot bell instructs us to move to the next.

We are taught that our happiness and success Lies in the decisions we make when we aren’t  even of age yet.

We are put on this floor and broken down by weights that mold us into mechanical beings ready to obey any order given at any hour at any minute at any second until we are brainwashed enough to stand up and continue this process of murdering the originality of the generation next.

I walk into the room and it’s as if I am a ghost to you.
I see your eyes move every time they meet mine,
But I still stare because your pain hasn’t taken away your shine.
I try to understand where we stand,
I try to speak with you whenever I can,
But you rather let me cry than hear what’s on my mind
I miss you.
I have never gone a day let alone an hour without talking to you.
You made me feel like I didn’t need to hide from all the feelings I kept inside,
You showed me it’s okay to feel,
It’s okay to cry,
It’s okay to trust someone even if you were hurt before.
Hurt.
What I did to you.
Hurting you was my worst fear,
Because My fear was losing you.
Losing you killed me.
You tell me I haven’t lost you,
Yet our house is empty.
Empty because as I was professing my wrongs I watched you slowly pack your things.
You first grabbed your trust,
And as I went on you took the happiness we shared
the laughs we had,
The songs we loved,
And even your vulnerability,
But still I care.
After that you said it was okay as you walked out the door leaving me hopeless and alone in our house.

One,
Two,
Three.
All eyes on me.
Eyes staring at my missing patches of hair.
Eyes staring at my bitten nails as if I am unaware.
Unaware of my own anxiety and my own depression.
Unaware of the words said when I am not present.
But your ignorance is what causes my mental obsessions.