you say I'm emo
just because I wear black a lot.
You say I am a queer
because I give my best friend a hug, and he just happens to be a guy.
You think I cut
just because I have scars on my wrist.
Truth is,
none of the stuff you say is true.
See, emo has become a fad.
Everyone wants to have attention.
But us "real emos" will tell you that its no fun.
I can't...we can't control when we are happy and sad,
glad and mad.
Its a ****** feeling.
I do not wear black because I worship Satan,
I wear black because it fits me
I do not wear my band shirts to be cool,
I wear them because they represent who I am.
I do not listen to rock music because I have problems,
I listen to it because the screaming helps my blood flow.
I don't expect you to know what it's like to truly be
emo
The only time you say that word,
the only time you say us
is when you make fun of us.
My hair is not long just to cover my face,
my hair is long because I like it that way.
You expect us to be like you,
but yet you rob us of our happienes.
Well,
who the **** are you to call me emo?
huh?
What do you truly know about depression.
Because your idea of depression is when you get grounded,
and my idea of depression is when I hold a blade to my neck.
You think depression is just tears,
but nope.
Its painful,
draining,
almost numbing.
This isn't even the start.
Do not call me emo,
because of what you think
because you will never know me
I won't let you get to know me
because I don't want that pain.
You are a ******,
and one of the reasons why
*I'm emo

We stopped talking
I can remember the last text you sent me
The five word text took you too long to write
I don't know when the war had started, peace quickly drained
I swore, you yelled, neither of us really understood what we were saying
At least I hope, my brain is still mixed with fear and grief
I said some really stupid ****
We were just so similar I saw the parts I hated about me in you
I collected dust in my mind, it coated the casket like a sheet
That was our difference, the main thing that set us apart
I hid my insecurities behind lies, burying them until I could forget
You fed them whatever happiness you had left
You were afraid if they left you wouldn't be you anymore
You tried so hard to fight them without killing them
but
They killed you in the end
A tightly wound rope could do what you never could
The thoughts were gone but so were you
I still have that text
Those same words that we told each other time and time again
After every argument
"I'm sorry, I love you"

"It hurt," she said through confused tears.
I didn't know I had opened a hidden fear.
By me saying that the scars didn't bother me,
There was something further that she didn't see.
It bothered me so much that she went to a knife for comfort, while I was so near. It bothered me that she told me her struggles, only after she shed tears. It bothered me that she felt so alone. But it didn't **** me. I won't let it. Because I know that there is not scar that can't be healed by the right hand. There is no wound that can't be sewn shut with the right care. And I know that there is nothing she alone should have to bear. For I am, and will always be right here.