Sitting in the corner of a room. Your smile   hanging. The   bully   pasted by  with their fists in the air. Your vision cloudy. Thoughts   left   true.  Thoughts of   broken   clotted memories yo tried to block out. The   night you tried to  forget  your  pain. staring down a rope.  It feels  like  everybody  is against you. your mind pointed you to    hell . A  strong feeling. Your sick of the bully beating you. You go to your parents seeking a listening    ear., but they don't care. your fingers cross a gun. Rolling the thought through your head. "Does anyone really  care?" You   pushed  the  wish of death off for a little longer. Your   hand  is covered in scars, scars of self harm. It makes you  sick. Your heart is pounding. A single tear rolls down your face. You think to yourself "Ill be  doing  everyone a favor, never to be seen again." You shut out the thought and run outside. Rain hitting the pavement. You try to talk yourself out of the idea. Swinging your head back and forth. The  rain drops cover your tears, but your eyes say the whole truth.  You take a step back. You run inside. Your body   hurts . Your   eternal self tells you to take some pain pills. You take more than you should. You lock yourself in your bedroom. Thinking of your memories as a    kid. Your mother and father in the next room see the pill bottle on the floor. Spilled out, and the gun lying next to it. They come running, and bang on your door. You walk your groggy body over to your closet and close the door. Your   waiting for the pills to work..and overdose you. Your    chest is burning. You are handling more than you can deal with. You stand up and open the door. Dissy. You fall over leaving a blow to the door. Your father breaks open the door. He sees your lifeless body on the ground.  Him and your  mother praying you're alive. She runs and calls 911. You are dead. Your father knows and tells your mother. She falls to the ground screaming and crying. You mother runs into the bathroom and grabs the gun. She falls to the ground with a single bang  Your fathers eyes widen. He knows what has just happend. The parametics arrive and so does the police. The life of a father has been destroyed and left to wonder. *Where did I go wrong?

Recently I have not been eating
I like how it feels
Wasting away
I want to become so frail that I sway in the wind
And disappear like the little burs from dandelions
Yesterday the cold infected my bones
and numbed my fingers
The icesicles in the air scraped my lungs,
But I liked it
Am I a ******* or am I
Mentally ill?
My suicide note is starting to resemble
The coffee I obsessively drink,
And the ink on my skin fading along with my chances
With him
The only way you're ever going to make a difference is if
Your name is in a textbook and children
Are popping bubbles and sticking the gum
In the pages
Is there a part of me that wants to hold onto life?
Why else would I write down my intentions?
If I was completely set on ending things
I would not need to write them down
They would fester in my mind comfortably
But these thoughts seem to fit very awkwardly
Inside my head
Then again,
What's the point in waiting?

My room is quiet
Blue curtains block out the world that lurks just outside
Waiting to hurt me.
8 pm.
I know that purple dusk is gathering outside my walls
The same way the bruises in my heart threaten to eclipse the sun.
I'm scared.
I don't look at the veins showing under my skin because they
Remind me too much of the indigo, under-oxygenated blood
That spills too often from my arms,
Reminds me of my father's face purple with rage
When I told him I didn't think I was supposed to be
In this body, wear these clothes, be this gender.
9pm. Navy skies peppered with stars I will not see again
Purple pen writing apologies to my parents
Heart pumping indigo, under-oxygenated blood too fast,
Knows it doesn't have much time,
Can't breathe, face purple, face blue,
Can't breathe, dark vision, indigo stars,
Can't breathe.

I'm still waiting for this hurt to go away. I'm waiting for the day when I can look in the mirror and not want to shatter it. For the day that I can go to a store with turning to every mirror and looking at my body, utterly disgusted. I'm waiting for the day where I don't want to take the silver pen that draws in red to my skin. I thought it was here.. I thought I was better. I was eating normally. But then is tried on the scale.. What an evil thing. A ruiner. When will I get off this track? I'm growing tired of this journey. But maybe I'll fly off it before I have the chance to hope off onto safe groun-

Good morning.
The sun is shining.
And you are in the clouds.
Welcome home.

She sat staring at the clock
thinking hoping
that there was some other way
not realizing the effect of her decision

but as the minutes ticked by
and the time she had
to talk herself out of it was over
and she began the task;
her last task

and as she completed it she wrote don't miss me,
I was never good enough
for you anyway
and with that she took her last breath
on the earth she lived on
for 16 short years.

All the card holders are empty,
ABUSED? PLEASE CALL!
****** ASSAULT SURVIVAL HOTLINE!
SUICIDEL TEEN HOTLINE!
These cards fill the library restroom,
(Library? REFUGE)
It's great these organizations exist,
Yes help,
More please!
What's more disturbing to me,
Is the fact that we need them,
Or even more so,
That the holders are empty.
The victims are,
Only increasing in numbers,
people are just becoming numbers,
And teenagers,
Are just statistics anymore.

She forces me to hang up
at 12:30
I think she's uncomfortable talking to me.
I know she's going to tell
her friends people like me
Feel too.

I'm not people
like I told her.
I'm a lot like the criers
The people in black
Self obsessed in their own self pity.

I'm a horrible mix
Of normal person
And complete social degenerate
To where I can't get along with either.

She's going to tell
All her buddies
who think she's such a great person
That she heard a person like me
cry.

Even more
She's going to tell them
She made me laugh.

She was telling me
How I felt.

“You feel like nothing matters”
She's the world's most depressing hypnotist.

“You feel like you're living shallowly”
Yes.
She's a genius.

I couldn't help
But laugh at the silliness
Of it all.

Electronic tears and pain
Via the telephone line
Depression and open wounds
Bleeding into a strangers listening ear
Pooling as it gathers
And drains into his brain
Telephonic transmission
Of a soul
That flies by wire
Just looking for another soul
To touch with

I want to be wanted.
I want to be worth wanting.
To be desired, sought after, prized.
I want to be protected.
Not shielded, but jealously kept.
Not abused either... Just held.

I want someone to love me.