I saw the devil in your eyes.
You looked into mine,
your hand wrapped around my neck.
I whimpered in fear,
Not because I knew what you had planned,
but because I saw the danger in your eyes.

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.

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.

When a boy tells you
he loves you,
Nothing tells you it's a lie.
No alarms go off,
No one warns you.
No one tells you
that all he will do
is hurt you and demand
you say
you love him too.
And it's too late to go back.

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.

Her smile never quite reached her eyes
And she ended up looking disgusted with the world,
Rather than happy.

I asked you to wait for me.
Many say, "Don't hold your breath."
They call me a wild card,
A damaged, dangerous creature.
I'm the kind of girl
who will hold your head under water
That is what they think.
Wait for me, though.
Hold your breath for I will be back,
if only to drown you.

You're so cold to touch
on this grey morning.
He promised we'd be forever young
but it's only an eternal dream
with an inevitable end.
The sign said happiness for rent
and I'd take that over a home.
I don't want to know the gory details
and I'd rather not look at the broken souls.
Is this how we intend to live out our days?
I just want to go home once more.

I'm a little home sick
and a little homeless
never knowing where
I belong
anymore.

Sadness lingers
missing a home
no longer mine
Take me home
so I can see
a place
where I can be.

When I heard the news,
I went to the bathroom
and sobbed until I was sick.

I grabbed my coat and my car keys,
wiped away the tears
And rushed to the hospital.

He looked at me, and croaked,
hey there, lion.
He's always called me his lion.

I started to cry once again,
This is the most I've cried,
Since I stopped feeling.

you idiot, I mutter,
Taking his hand in mine, gently
examining the stark white bandages on his wrist.

I stayed with him,
They didn't make me leave,
And he understood.

I can't live without him.
I told him I needed him
I wanted him.

Every **** word
Meant all it was worth.
He could never leave.

I take hot showers.
It's nice at first,
The steam flowing around you.
Gloriously warm, like an embrace.
But it starts to burn,
The water pelts against your skin,
Stinging and turning it red.
Revel in the pain,
For when you get out,
The numbness will return.

Well, things have changed now.
Not really, they haven't.
I assume you're doing well.
Don't assume things, I'm not.
The therapy must have helped you.
As if I could forget what was done to me.
I just knew you could be happy again.*
Do you listen to anything? I am not happy.
How dare you come here and expect me to magically be better?
Did you think I'm not forever scarred by what he did?
I wish I could forgive the world, but I cannot.

You can't love somebody
who you don't understand
And you know what happens
When they don't understand?
They learn to fear you
And then they look at you
Like a monster.
No, you can't love what you
Don't understand.

Someday, you'll give everything you have
and more to something or someone.
You'll care so much, and nothing seems
to come from your hard work and effort.

It's draining and you'll be exhausted.
One day you'll say to yourself,
I care too much. I'm done caring.
You'll shut away your hope and give up faith.

In the end, you'll be nothing but cold.

Watch your body fall to pieces.
It will not be the first to give up on you,
but it won't be the last, either.

When your nose bleeds,
resist the urge to scream.
It is only because all you've eaten
in the past three days was a grape.
Calcium deficiency.

Your skin will turn yellow
and your nails will be brittle.
It's not beautiful.
You will not look like the plastic
photo lies on the magazine covers.

Your body is consuming itself.
Maybe it sounds like poetry,
but it tastes like fear.
The fear of gaining weight,
the fear of not being perfect.

Your heart will weaken,
your kidneys could fail,

If you die of anorexia nervosa,
it will not be beautiful.
It will not be poetic.
It is grotesque and painful.
The doctors will shove tubes down your throat
just to keep you alive,
while your mind screams,
we can't have those calories

How do you waste away?
It's easy to do.
Hate every piece of yourself
until it's so small you can't feel it.

I think of myself,
My existence,
I pick apart every little piece of me.
This hate, this self loathing,
Stems from my selfish desire,
To think of myself.

"Nevermore"

The Raven, I am
An ill omen,
Dark plumage,
Circling the sky,
Looking for flesh,
Already dead.

Listen for me in the dead of night,
I come bearing news,
The four horsemen shall come,
but only for you.
Death watches closely,
Looming in the shadows.

Call me the Raven,
For I bring only
Bad intentions
And ill will.
A demon, or a Raven?
I prophesied the end.

and it shall come.

I only create
so that I can destroy
and the love I so crave
burns when I hold it,
like the still smoldering ashes of my poetry
when I scooped them from the fire.
My hands are red
and it hurts to touch,
to be touched,
and maybe that's why
no on can love me
...because I burn them all

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?

Like Icarus, we fly
too close to the sun
or too close to the sea.

The highs and the lows
The good and the bad
There is no in between.

Life is a game,
A game of extremes.
And we don't know how to win.

But you know what they say:
What goes up,
*must come down.

I stopped feeling.
It hurt too much,
So I froze my heart,
To make the pain stop.
Nowadays, the only pain i feel
Is the frostbite on my heart
And the melting of my mind.

Call me an ice queen,
Call me cold.
It can't hurt me.
Not anymore.
If you want me to feel,
You'll have to take an ice pick
To the frozen block
That I call my heart.

Distance is my best friend.

I closed my eyes
and made the decision.
This was the end.
I found the pills,
and wrote my note.
My tears smudged the ink.
Pill after pill,
I began to feel light headed.
I closed my eyes.

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.

With every fiber of my being,
I hate you.
I hate what you did to me.
You treated me like a *****,
and called me one, too.
Does a ***** fight like I did?

I ******* hate you with every bone in my body.
I hope someone sets you on fire.
I'm not who I used to be,
because you couldn't control your lust.
You *******, give me back what you stole.
This emptiness burns for your head on a stick.

The violence of how you treated me
is echoed in my hatred for you.
I am not the kind of girl who has such bloodlust.
And yet, I lust for your blood for it will rectify my pain.
My blood spilled on the pavement,
Bruises that blossomed beneath my skin.

How do you sleep,
    
*      With the beastly things you've done?

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.

I dreamt that you left,
And I cried tears of blood.
They say dreams have meaning,
and I don't know what that means,
but I think you're killing me

I know you,
You claim you want happiness,
You want romance and joy,
Not the broken people.
Then tell me why,
Tell me why all my
most popular writing
Is about pain and suffering?

I'd like to think
that tortured souls
find happiness in the end.
That maybe who ever is watching
Will understand that it's hard.

It's hard to be a good person
When the world treats you like ****.

But I've long since stopped
believing in miracles
When the world showed me
It's true colors.

But how do I explain to my family,
Why I don't have Christmas spirit
Or why my eye is swollen.
I don't want to ruin their Christmas.
Just keep quiet, like always.

I miss you.
Still.
I keep writing about
how I much miss you
But it doesn't make it better.
I'm still counting the days.
I miss the way your thumb
rubbed across the back of my hand.
I miss your eyes, the way they sparkled.
I miss the way you never yelled,
except that one time when
I stood on the edge of the world.
You promised me forever,
And I promised you always.
I miss your dumb jokes.
I miss your bad cooking,
The way you tried so hard to make cookies,
And apologized when you burnt them.
I miss you little mutters at night,
When you thought I was sleeping.
I miss you,
After all this time,
I will always miss you.

Those words do not encompass my emotions.
I am so much more than just sad,
It's not a bad day,
It's so much more.
What I have been through,
And I how I feel,
Is not properly explained.
Not with "I'm sad."
Not with any words.

I must be immortal.
No matter how
hard I try to die,
I cannot succeed.

Why does it always seem
like my best
is
not
good
enough?

I screamed.
No one came.

This is ruthless world,
and no one will be there
to save you when you need it.

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

It's a gift,
To be innocent, that is.
I would give anything
just to have it back.

But I can't have it back.
He took my innocence
in the harshest way.
Taking advange of a naive girl.

He pinned my arms
ignored my pleading
And took my dignity
And my hope
And my innocence.
I just want it back.

I can't sleep with
            The sound of your
                   h e a r t  b e a t
          in my
                   e
                      a
                         r
                            s

They say that writing is like weaving an intricate lie.
That writers are just excellent liars
Lie to me, story teller, for you make lies sound beautiful.
        
         *I was never a good liar.

I once knew a man who called me trash,
and after that, worthless,
with some lovely expletives in between.

I was hurt, yes,
but the truth hurts,
does it not?

I nodded my head,
I knew the truth.

The truth...
the truth was a lie,
and my lies were truth.

All was fine,
and I was worthless.

The truth was a lie,
and my lies were truth.

I no longer know
what is real and what's not.

All was fine,
and I was worthless.

When I dropped the plates,
When he pushed me against the wall,
When his hand was at my throat,
When nothing was right,
And I wasn't good enough,
When I was bleeding on the floor,
And the crimson stained his shoes,
When I fought his lecherous touch.
It wasn't enough to save me.

I saw her shadow in eyes of golden flame;
Nothing to lose, something to gain.

She exhaled whispered promises, tendrils of sin.
Her cold lips smiled; insidious is her grin

She spun and spun with airy grace
But nothing fled the ivory mask, her face.

The snow fell softly under the pale moon;
I saw her within my mind far too soon.