She was a simple kind of pretty.
Instead of eyeliner,
Dark circles and worry
outlined her eyes.
A good student, they said
but it was never good enough.
She knew she could do better.
There could always be better.
She knew she wasn't good enough.
Things were never good enough for her.
To disappoint the high standards
she forced upon herself
was a crime punishable by death.

My writing used to mean something.
I promise.
But now I try to write
and then the keyboard is wet
and my eyes are burning
and the words don't come out right
I swear it used to mean something
but I don't know how to be eloquent
and I've forgotten how to articulate
and why
*why can't I find the same meaning?

I called out to God, to any god,
begging to be saved.
Don't let me die like this.
And I did not die,
but I certainly wasn't saved.
This world is hell,
and it's clear that no one is listening.

They said I should forget about you.
That I can't love what doesn't exist anymore.
But to me, you're still so real.
Every last memory is tangible,
tangled threads ensnaring my fingers,
I'm still reaching out for you.

We were young and in love,
what a sad cliche.
You were such a dreamer,
and opened my eyes to art and poetry and music.
I still love all those things,
but they remind me of you,
all so tangible, but intangible all the same.

They said I should forget about you.
That I cannot love what doesn't exist anymore.
But they're wrong.
You still exist
and I don't believe in love.
Not anymore, not with you
gone from this world.

You sleep all day
and wonder why
you can't sleep at night.
Close your eyes,
open them,
Say we're in love,
cheat when she's not looking.
Say we're happy,
cry when we're alone.
We are all lying.

My father once told me that good men don't hit women.
But I never thought of him as a man.
And I never thought of myself as a woman,
We're still just kids, aren't we?
Yes, we're graduating in a year,
And maybe then you'll be a man,
But I don't feel like an adult,
So hitting  me doesn't count,
And you still have the chance
To be a good man.
Don't hurt the next one,
Please

We're friends, right?
I know I don't see you often,
but you can tell me anything.
You're such a beautiful person.
I know I never know how to make things better,
but, we're friends... right?

It's okay when you stop answering,
I know you're really busy.
I miss you so much though.
I get nervous, you know.
but, we're friends, right?
...right?

Most girls who get bullied,
are bullied by other girls.
It's a harsh kind of thing,
The words and the looks,
And when they ignore you.
They pull your hair and take your things.
They might even hit you.

The one who bullies me,
is a guy, so much bigger than me.
Intimidating and he knows it.
He plays with my mind,
Shoving me against lockers
like he's going to hurt me
But he walks away.

I'm left to make sense of his words,
And stop the shaking,
Sometimes, I wish he would hit me,
At least then, I would know what he's doing.
I don't know what he wants,
But he says some frightening things,
I'm afraid he might make good on his promises.

I hope heaven is real,
because I know you'll be happy
for the first time.
If there is a paradise,
I hope you're there.

Do you have sympathy for the devil?
because I would not mind being
your second, third, fifth, last choice,
because it would mean, no matter how little,
I would still be wanted.

In another life,
I would have loved you.
You would have enchanted me,
but I don't believe in love.
If we had met before
I knew the world was cruel,
before the wicked man,
before all the pain,
things would be different.
In another life,
I would have loved you.

We don't talk about it.
When someone brings up
their body, your imperfections,
the way her eyes don't light up,
the scars on my wrists,
We brush it off and turn away.
We cannot talk about it.

I try not to think about
how much I hate myself.

Self hatred is taboo.
Unhappiness isn't permitted.
But we're all so miserable.
Wouldn't it be better if
we didn't feel so alone?

Do you want to run away, too?
Do you want to leave me alone...
Like everyone else?

I don't want to be alone.
I can't be alone.
I can't do this anymore,
Why do you have to leave me alone?

The world is obsessed with forced positivity
and everyone is afraid to feel anything else
for fear that their emotions are wrong,
invalid,
unjustified,
because you're not allowed to feel
anything but
happy

They once called me a prodigy,
Telling me of the great future
that they had planned for me.

I wanted to be free,
To do what I wanted,
To make my own future.

So I burned all my music,
And locked up the piano.
Stayed away from my life.

I can't bring myself to forget it.
I didn't realize I would miss it.
Perhaps they knew what was meant for me.

I used to count the stars
when I was anxious.

It was beautiful when
they fell from the sky.
Everyone took pictures
and spoke of the
art of destruction.

There are no stars now
and the night grows cold
and all anyone does
is ask *why?

The roses I planted might never grow.
Maybe they know better.
They don't want to be picked
and handed to a loveless woman
to die in a vase, forgotten on the sill.

Two faced.
Smile at me, act like everything is fine.
Turn around and tell them how much you hate me when i'm not there.
nice.
back stabber.
I'm sorry I was never enough for you.
I'm sorry i'm cold.
but you doing this to me has only made everything worse.
When you begged me to stop cutting, I never imagined you'd be the reason that I would tear my skin to shreds.

You make me feel
like I've been
struck by lightening.
Heart stop
Electrify
I can feel my veins burning.
Coursing through my bones
I can't tell if it hurts or tingles.

Sometimes,
you find an empty stairwell.
Seldom used, not that clean.
But a gentle kind of quiet fills it,
the kind with chatter in the distance
and the smell of coffee from a nearby cafe.

You pause on the landing
between two flights.
A place between places,
a nowhere floor.
It's not a destination,
it's nowhere anyone's going.

Take a deep breath,
have a moment alone,
a moment of peace,
in this nowhere place.

He held out his hand to me,
but when I reached for his support,
he let me fall.
He looked at me
eyes so cold,
his voice sharp, wounding
"I'm not here to help you."

the other day,
i saw another teenager.
His lips were blue,
and his skin was pale.
Scars peeked out from under his sleeve.
It was like looking in a mirror.
But what could I say?
I  know from experience that words can't make it better.
A split second, our eyes locked.
But I turned away,
and walked out the door.

I've been awake for too long again.
Take the pills and sleep?
Risk the nightmares?
Or stay awake...
Again...
I'm kind of sick of not sleeping
But I'm sick of the nightmares.

Pull the trigger for me,
                                            
                                                        
       ­                                     *I can't do it myself.

We used to fly,
We used to soar.
Our laughter danced across the sky
Our strong wings never faltered.
We never feared falling,
We knew we could trust our feathers.
But our wings are gone,
Our faith had been stolen,
They broke our trust with their lies
and they took away our freedom.
When we fell from the sky,
we were never the same

His hand up your skirt
isn't going to make you
feel any less dead inside.
Sweetheart, don't do this.
The money won't last,
The attention isn't worth it.

I know everyone thinks
black is a sad color,
a depressing color.
Black is the absence of light,
and white is the blending of all colors.
But white always felt so hollow,
so sterile and cold.
Black has seemed to wrap its way
around me and embrace me,
while white has left me alone,
as if on a stage, spotlighted by
my own fear of stages.

I don't really know what I'm doing.
What my purpose is,
Why I'm here,
What I'm good at.
I don't know.

I don't understand why bad things happen.
Why people are killed,
Buildings crumble,
Cancer takes over.
Good people fall apart

I don't understand why such things have happened to me.
They said I was asking for it.
He told me it was out of love.
She said it was my fault.
My lion said there's no controlling it.

Maybe I'm a bad person.
I asked god why? why? why?
And I have recieved no answer.
My sins must have been far too many to forgive.

I stopped sleeping
a long time ago.
Rest is restless,
Dreams are nightmares.

When I bolt awake
in the middle of night,
Not a soul is there to
comfort my screaming mind.

I'm tired of this.
Tired of staying awake,
Tired of fearing sleep,
I've tired of this life.

My eyes are melting.
I've forgotten how to see,
and it burns,
this searing pain.
It's because I cannot see.
For we see,
But we do not truly see.
No one truly sees anymore

I hope you grow up innocent.

I'm not one for theatrics.
I just... I wanted to say goodbye,
or at least explain myself.
My name is Liz and I like to think I can write.
Things have been really tough for me lately, writing and drawing has been what's holding me together. But one can only hold themselves together for so long before things start to shift and slide. Strings cannot hold together the shattered vase like glue can. We all know how hard it can be to find all the pieces and put the vase back together.

Now, I'm not some fragile ceramic object, but i've been feeling a bit shattered lately, a lot shattered, actually. There's no halfway shattered, is there? Anyways, back to the subject at hand, I'm not happy. I know so many people who are so unhappy and so hopeless. It's sad, these shells of people walking around all grey and empty. They look like ghosts. I feel like them.

Yet, no one seems to see the world the way I do. I guess i've always looked at things differently, somehow managing to be the most optimistic pessimist and the most pessimistic optimist at the same time. The way I see things, it's like the world is this grey place, yet there are still splotches of color every once in a while, and they're all the more beautiful for being surrounded by so much grey. I don't know.  I just feel so alone.

I've been feeling like this for a while. Alone, empty, not good enough. Something is lacking and i just cannot find it in my heart to write. So, i'm putting the pen down. I only hope I won't drown without my life preserver. It just isn't the same anymore.

It's been so lovely getting to know you all and reading your poetry. Thank you for sharing those tiny pieces of your souls for everyone. Jan, I tried. To the one who called herself Wicked, I wish I would have spoken to you more.

Hello poetry, and goodbye.

Blank journal pages:
All have dates, but instead of writing,
you just stared for ages
as your pen left a black inky pool.

I could lose myself in that pool
I dip my fingers in ink
and stare at the swirls
as I try not to let myself sink

Someone protected me once...
It was a nice feeling.
Not lust, not fear, not hatred,
There was anger,
But it wasn't directed at me.
He looked at me with care,
Like I was a real person, and not a shell.
I felt like I mattered for once.
To have someone step in front of you,
To gaze up at their back as they defend you.
I could have sworn he had wings,
Like a guardian angel.

I haven't slept in quite a few days.
A week maybe.
The occasional hour of nightmare ridden rest
has not done anything for me.

I've starting forgetting words,
Mixing them up or saying the wrong word.
Even mispronouncing them.
I barely have the energy to think

I spent an hour crying because I thought I had wrinkles under my eyes,
But they were only bags and shadows.
I'm too young for this.

It's hard to focus,
I sob and laugh for no reason.
I'm cracking
And I can't stop thinking about what you did.
I'm afraid to sleep.