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  Dec 2017 MeKenna
Sara
9:03 pm:* I stand for nothing and fall for everything, but I've never fallen so hard for something as I have for you. I haven't wrote you anything in awhile and I think it's because I feel like I have you safely hidden in the middle of my palm in my fist, but lately I feel you slipping through my fingers. Are we okay?

9:46 pm: I've realized that I have trapped myself in a world of art being with you, everything I touch feels as if I'm experiencing it for the first time, but when I touch you, it's as if I'm touching fire, and baby, I haven't stopped lighting matches just to feel close to you.

10:21 pm: After our first love died out, others taught me love with bruises and punches but you haven't laid a hand on me and I can't decide if you don't love me or if this is true love. I'm leaning towards true love. I'm torn between showing you the darkest parts of me or shining a light on my cracked skin to avert your eyes from my scars. Does that make sense to you?

10:38 pm: This silence burns more than the ***** seeping down my throat could ever and I'm shaking at the thought of your mouth forming the words "goodbye". I've been built on the words "sorry I love someone else" and "this isn't going to work out" and if you listen closely, you can hear each person whisper those words that cut like knives when I cry. I sound like thunderstorms because I'm only a natural disaster, nothing less and nothing more.

11:02 pm: I wish I was bulletproof to the shots of sadness that are fired at me, but I am left convulsing with panic attacks and heart palpitations. Is it weird to want to die of a heart attack? Is it weird to want to be one of your cigarettes that you bite between your teeth? I want to be on top of your lips. I want you to breathe me in. Nothing makes me more afraid than you diving head first into a sea of lies about how I am cold and distant, because I've never felt more close to someone as I do to you. You'll find that I am only shattered glass, but do I ever want to be more for you. I want to be better for you, I want to be able to see happiness pouring out of your eyes so I can drown in them.

11:44 pm: You're a broken home but I still want to retire inside of you. I'll rebuild you if you'd hand me the tools. You don't even have to do so, I will fix you so you stand stronger than you ever have. You are a piece of art painted drunk and I want to kiss your canvas until my lips have left an imprint on you and we merge as one mess. This city rains too much and I have to get out and be with you, even if it does rain too much where you are, you shine brighter than the sun ever could.

1:20 am: I've taken 5 more shots and I can't stop sobbing your name. If I were ever to run into you I feel like it would be in the emergency room, but I'd still kiss you. I've attempted to write how much I love dating the girl of my dreams, I hope I'm still yours.

2:07 am: The slashes in my wrist match the lines in my walls and I can't stop staring at them because you always just say you're fine and I know you're not. I want to be so much more than this pile of dust, I want you to think I hung each star in the sky for you and that I created each galaxy to try and show you my love for you. You don't have to read all of this, my words are small and empty no matter how much of myself I pour into them, but I hope you believe them for once. I want to be so much and so little at the same time. I'm at war with my body and you're holding up a white flag for me and I don't know if I can recover. Somehow I managed to find myself with a handful of pills, just like 3 years ago when I attempted suicide to an Ed Sheeran song. You can say I love you to me but when I say it to you, my lips ache and my head fills with warning signs because it's never been this real before.

4:31 am: I woke up with uneven heart beats because I think you've started to regret me and I'd be lying if I said it never happens. I hope to one day convince you that you put the air in my lungs every day and I don't think I'd wake up every morning without you. Those are two things I'm very sure of. I don’t really remember what I lived for before you, I guess I wrote ****** poetry and thought drowning was fun in some sick way. I’ve been thinking about the way you’re going to kiss me, I’ve been prescribed antidepressants for 3 years and they’ve never really worked but i think your lips could cure me. I remember when we first started dating, i thought skin was supposed to be destroyed and i think thats when you realized that this wasn’t a two person relationship, it was you and I and my depression. I didn’t think the small of my back would ever crave being touched by someone as it does when i think about you. You say you see stars in my eyes and I pray to god that they don’t turn into black holes. I’m letting you pick apart my glass heart piece by piece and i never knew you had such strong hands until i didn’t see a cut on them while you examined such a shattered mess. God, I’m trying to put into words how much i love you and i know you think i don’t mean them and I’m searching for the right words but every time i take a step forward i take two steps back but I’ll keep on pushing because baby, you’re worth more than I can put into words.
  Dec 2017 MeKenna
Ariel Leann
TRAPPED

T
   R
A
     P
P
      E
D
In an illusion of myself
Caught between the past and my own selfishness
Isolated between four walls that are caving in
Hearing the whispers of the unloved
Left alone with just memories to haunt me
No one could hear my cries for help
Nails digging in my back
Slowly puncturing my delicate skin
Feeling my blood seep afloat and slowly stream
Just the right amount of pain
One face left to clench my stomach
Her piercing green eyes in the rage they stayed
Her lips formed into a knarled, derranged twist
Her words cutting like daggers all over my body
Her hair flowing like a monster's
Isolated
I try to scream but it is caught in my throat
Flashing back to the age of six
The monster ontop of me
Enjoying every little cry for help
A man who was suppposed to be a father
Corrupting an innocent child for his own twisted pleasure
He does not know how much he isolated me in my own little world
He laughs at my attempted cries for help
I will *Never
be the same
Corruption
Purging because of my thoughts
The concept was introduced to me
I Never thought I was beautiful
I never really had the chance to be beautiful
Corrupted by uncontrollable words
I don't understand
Looking into the mirror at the monster that I have become
Twisted
Always hid the razor a place where no one would find it
The one thing that I could always rely on
Something that would stay with me
Just wanted someone to love me
Someone to care
Feel the razor slice across my skin
Tears mixing with the blood
Wishing I were never born
Or accomplished my attemped suicide last year
TRAPPED* in the thoughts inside my own head
Isolated in the unheard tears I have been crying
Corrupted by the surrounding people
Twisted in my own thoughts and actions
Sorry, I just needed to let it all out.
  Dec 2017 MeKenna
Robert Guerrero
Its the world I go to
When all my love is rejected
When everything fails
When my best friends fail to guide me
Out of this dark place Im in
So I just grab a bottle
Drink till the pain is gone
Jumping straight into a drunken wastland

I called each of them six times
Trying to get this off my chest
But each and everyone of them rejected my call
So here I am
Bottle in hand
Trying to find the path
To a drunken wasteland
That I missed for so long

I attempted suicide nine times today
Failed each time
So Ill just drown my pain and sorrows
Till the world itself becomes nonexistant
This drunken wasteland is a peaceful place
Really there are no worries and no more pain
Just people who have ruined lives as well
People who truely understand what Im going through

I just wish when I leave this place
That I could breath
Stick my head in the clouds
And find peace for once
Dont I deserve some kind of heaven
In this **** hell
When everything is the same
I just run and hide in a drunken wasteland
A poem I wote a long time ago
  Dec 2017 MeKenna
Cunning Linguist
It was quite the gloomy day for young Lucy. A very, very vile day indeed. Every day follows this same suit. This, however, does not normally affect her, as she has been hardened by her daily burdens at school; until today. We'll get to that part soon, but first let me tell you a little more about Lucy's life.

She is often the object of ridicule by the other girls at her boarding school, St. Chucky's School for Girls. But this does not compare to when she is at the mercy of Helen. Helen, the most popular girl at SCSG, everybody adores her, but not just that, they want to be her. It is not necessarily their fault, as they are oblivious to Helen's charm. Lucy even finds herself coveting Helen's life, occasionally. But nobody (with the exception of Lucy) can see through Helen's façade: That of a wolf in sheep's skin. Words such as "base," and "ruthless," fall short when trying to define her. Every time Helen begins a rumor about Lucy, it doubles as another nail in Lucy's coffin. We'll file this metaphor under "obvious foreshadowing."

Though try as she might, she constantly feels inept at handling her life when in the hands of Helen. She has attempted – time after time – to appeal her case to the adamant directors, but they – sadly – are hypnotized under Helen's such guile pretense. A compromise is utterly pointless at best. So Lucy primarily tries to evade Helen's clutches.

This brings us to the present, where we find Lucy crying in the comfort of solitude inside the restroom. She aimlessly wanders the labyrinths of her mind seeking the answers to why she feels so alone in this world. She ponders what she has finally decided. If she'd have had just one friend, maybe the imminent future wouldn't look so desolate. But this is not a happy story, and unhappy stories are usually followed by a very unhappy ending. Trying to anchor herself to anything she could possibly have left. …She fails. Oh well.

Losing her grasp on reality, and with a swift kick, the stool from beneath her feet gives way, allowing the rope's grasp around her neck to tighten. Her body thrashes about, fighting, but to no avail. Time flashes before her eyes as she blinks her last. Poor Lucy, she was too naïve to realize that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

But don't worry, they'll eventually find her body. And maybe Lucy will get what she wanted: for everybody to feel sorry for her. Maybe all the girls will realize the damage they've caused. And maybe, just maybe Helen won't get reprieved this time for what she's done… Fat chance. Such a pity.
  Dec 2017 MeKenna
Iris
Some nights I don't even care
that you don't care and that's how i know we're both
burnt out, like cigarettes, sticking to the walls of the other's lungs;
maybe i'm just fooling myself because deep down i know
that really, we were just
matches that wouldn't light from the start...
They say suicide is attempted every 40 seconds but i doubt
you'd bother to get to know me well enough to
break into me through the balcony and not my bedroom window within the seconds left- 39,
38,
37,
36...
i'm confident that you had me falling under 20..
You didn't even bother to catch my eyes through
the bars today, you didn't even bother to find out
that my very own existence might be able to be summed up in the way I've thought of the rain hitting the
pavement as tiny dancing butterflies ever since i was five..
four, three...
Why would you speak as if you were pulling me close when really all you've been doing, is pulling me apart?
Why would you remind me to stop holding my breath
when I've been catching my breath on you?
I don't want you in my lungs
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