Not only your beloved persons or unrequiteds,

But that kid that always sits across the cafeteria with their head buried in their sketchbook.
That old man flipping through the contents of the half-abandoned little library.
The boy resisting the leer of sleep as he nods of on the bus,
And the lady that walks her dog as the sun meets the horizon.

Remember to love long hot showers,
The moments of serenity between wake and sleep.
Dancing with young children,
or listening to their plotless stories.
The last period of an essay.
Late nights writing poetry.

Most importantly,
Remember to love
yourself.

As if it was just feeling "sad".
No.

Its a beast of shadows and darkness that consumes you from the inside.
Its being hollow, devoid of self and everything human.
It's a violent ocean who's waves crashes against your ribs.
It's a pain that infects your core and spreads to the very tips of your fingers.
It's the heaviest nothingness.

It hurt hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts
so ******* much.

I just want it to stop.

My poetry is the result of an influx of thoughts.

My head can't hold them all,
So they spill out onto paper and soak and stain,
Leaving these tangled strings of words.

I try to arrange them to something comprehensive
But it's mostly an indecipherable nonsense.
I suppose thats what makes it poetry.

At least, it makes the mess in my brain
Just a bit more tangible.

I never thought I could get in trouble for staying quiet.

It was a form of self-protection, I suppose.
A coping mechanism, you can say.
Every time something that brought pain or confusion or any complicated feelings,

I just
left
my body.
I'd be there
but
not really.

You can always get in trouble for spilling too much, I thought.
So if you don't say anything at all, don't let anyone in, don't let anything out -
You'd be safe.
I was supposed to be safe.

But when I was threatened with the psych ward for staying silent
I realized
that wasn't true.

I'm not safe
I'm not safe
I'm not safe

I'm not
safe
here
real
okay.
This is supposed to fix me,
supposed to make me okay,
why am I not okay?

I am
dying
dying
dying,
drowning,
asphyxiating,
drowning,
drowning in

Lies.
Lie.
That's the only thing I can do now.
Now it's all just lies,
I'm a lie
I'm a lie
I'm a lie -

Hah.
Don't you wish you never asked?

I thought
           I thought
                               maybe
      if i
hurt
                       on the          outside
then it would
stop hurting
                      so much
                   so much
on.the.inside.

not working
      not working
                 why does
nothing
*******
work?

"Quel jour de la semaine aimes-tu le mieux?"
It says on the french homework.

Well, lets see...

Lundi is terrible, first day of the week.
Mardi is subpar, practically a repeat of the first.
Mereredi theres too much too do, between clubs and homework.
Jeudi is too long, and my guitar teacher's chance to remind me little practice I put into the guitar, and everything else that doesn't matter enough to me.
Vendredi is the end, but not quite the start of anything good, since
Samedi is filled with homework and more lessons and such that eat away at me until I'm nothing more but a husk of myself.
Dimanche is when I'm forced to meet my sins in the face while trying to not let them show on my face because I cant let anyone know of these "inner battles" I'm facing.

So, which day of the week do I like the most?
"Aunun.
Je déteste tous les jours,
mois,
année.
...
Je déteste ma vie."

I'm sorry I let go.
I know I promised, its just

We were the wild children,
Never where the adults needed us to be,
For the world was our playground.

We were one,
Joint at the hip.
I thought that we would never get lost as long as we stayed together.
But as the illusion of childhood dissolved, so did you.

You used to look up to face the adventures of the day,
But eventually your head grew heavy with the foreign disease
And you could only stare down at your shoes,
And then you couldn't even lift it off your pillow.

I didn't understand why you no longer wanted to explore.
You told me you were tired.
But how, if you were always in bed?
I was told that you were sick.
But I thought fevers and colds left with rest and time?

I waited for you,
Sat at your bedside,
Missed out on my own adventures with the hope of more with you once you got better.

But you never got better.

I know that I told you,
Promised that I would follow you to the ends of the Earth.
But as your heart hardened and your mind wandered,
I no longer could find you inside yourself,
And there was no one left to follow.

Thats why I let go.
You were sinking, drowning,
And I couldn't too lose myself in your Mariana Trench.

The emptiness aches,

Only interupted with the waves of pure hurt.

You say I'm being dramatic.

But you don't know these aches of hopelessness.

The loaded weight keeping me from progressing.

The loneliness that is most prevalent when surrounded.

You don't know what is

to drown within yourself

submerged in hurt

that stings eyes when looking for hope

and makes those close sound so far away

and sinks you further and further

into its bottomless pit.

I know that I'm alive,
I can feel the rise and fall
and beating beneath my chest.
I see the cloud of air with every expel of breath into the frigid air.

But this freezing cold is finding its way inside and flows through my veins causing me to shiver.
My warmth is stolen along with my liveliness and I am left as a shell of what I once was.
Left as this alive emptiness, like a ghost without a soul.

I know that I am alive
and, just the same,
know that I am not living.

I simply drift about your world aimlessly,
with this useless heart, body, lungs
mind
That keep me alive against the world's better judgement.

Find me a purpose
Find me a soul
Find me a life
So that I could live.

I wish I remembered.
Only then would I have an excuse
to not forgive.

Forgetting
is not unexperiencing.
Its being left with a lingering reminisce,
a senseless dread,
a dull ache
that you can't find the source of.

I wish I remembered
so that I can hate you
without hating myself.

Because it feels like you did so much
while doing nothing at all.

But I know you did.
I know you hurt me,
I know you hurt me.

I just can't quite
remember.

The death date I assigned to myself when I was
what, 10 years old?
I told myself I would die one way or another.

Most likely by my own hands.

Because I had no purpose here.
Because I was too weak for this world.
Because the pain and weight were too much.
Because nobody seemed to care all that much.
Because those who had only cared for the false parts of me.
Because those who truly had didn't want to live either.
Because I was tainted by those who were thought to have cared.
Because it was the only way to be truly free.

I would play pretend to be adults with my "boyfriend".
Would play dance with knives and needles on my arm.
Would make candy out of painkillers.
Would imagine myself to be Icarus when meeting with high ledges, flying then
                                falling.
Would dream about that date,
01/04/2026.
My 16th birthday.

No 10 year old should be doing that,
I don't think.

How do you expect a child to do so much?

They're tired, can't you see?
Tired from doing so much,
And that "much" being nothing worthwhile
Doesn't make it any less tiring.

They're tired,
Lift them up into your arms
Where it is safe and warm,
For the weight of their own body is too heavy to bear.

They're so tired,
So lay them in bed and tuck them under a blanket
Of a thousand promises to always be there for them, never let them hurt, to always love them.

They're tired,
Just read them a bedtime story about silly little talking animals
That sometimes have troubles,
But always work it out in the end.

They're tired,
Let them have their little interminable nap,

Because they're tired.
And they deserve to rest.

I understand that you don't understand.
That you feel confused,
And threatened.

What I don't understand is why you call me confused
And dangerous
When you're the one out to **** me
In the name of

Woman's rights
Religious Beliefs
Children's safety
Your own good.

When you know **** well you don't care about any of them.

I don't want to debate
Or be politically controversial.
I just want to live.

Just let me be.
Let me exist.

Your greatest poem.
Its okay if its not perfect yet,
You have time to make edits.

Don't mind the typos and awkward bits,
The "flaws" of it all is what makes it you.

It is to be dedicated to you and you only.
**** what others want,
This isn't about them.

This poem is constantly evolving.
It doesn't have to make sense,
As long as its truly yours.

I'm stale, spoiled, way past my due date
And yet I'm still here, in the back of the fridge.

I know the cold is meant to keep me around for longer,
But the prolonging was meaningless when my demise was inevitable.

I'm without purpose, without notice
I'm not quite sure why I'm here really.

I wasn't supposed to be around this long.
Just pour me down the sink already,
Theres no chance I'm getting better now.

I am fine
Go ahead, Turn blind eyes
Ignore the signs

'Cause I am fine
Theres no mental decline
And its not like I hate this life of mine

I'm fine
Totally fine inside the mind

When I say "goodbye"
For the last time
Don't gasp and cry

Couldn't you see past the glass lies?
Couldn't you see that I wasn't truly "fine?"

Or were you willing to simply stand by
Only caring to care when I had already died.

This world we live in is chaotic and messy,
and yet we expect ourselves to be composed and perfect?

How could we, when we ourselves are individual complex worlds that follow the same principles of the wider world.

How, if we are the monomers of this complex structure and therefore share its qualities -
No,
Give it its qualities.

For we are chaotic and messy
And apart of something much greater than ourselves.

So don't be so rigid,
Its not in our nature.

Just be.

F
                               a
                                                        l
     ­                       l                            
            ­                                                                 ­       i
                                    n
           g

                                           d
                                                               ­                                  o
                                                               ­      w
              n

.
.
.
                                        ­                                                                 ­         𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵 !

Mama and papi
Fighting over whose paying the mortgage.

Gotta spend less on vacations,
Outings,
Birthdays,
Treats,
Heat,
Groceries.

Guilt
Gu­ilt
Guilt.

Mama and papi
Fighting over how they're splitting bills.

Saying he pays too much,
Saying that he can handle it.
Saying she gets anxious,
Saying how he's in pain.

Guilt
Guilt
Guilt.

Why do thwy do this anyway?
Asking, asking,
Why they'd sacrifice so much?

For you.
Yeah, for you.
You ungrateful waste of space, time, money.

Guilt
Guilt
Guilt.

I think I'm nothing
But you think I'm everything
How can I be both?

Reach past barriers
Fingertips press like a tender kiss
Or like your body when it melts into the ocean.

Inpatient
Crashing
Straining
And never enough.

If feels like giving in,
Like all the progress was for nothing.

Nothing.
At least this makes me feel something,
Even if that something is nothing more than a dull burn beneath my lemon-orange socks.

I don't know why I do it.
Why I try.
Why I cry every time,
Why I can't just ******* ---
...

It always comes back to this.
I don't know why I always fall into the belief that they'll be okay
again.
Again.
Again.
It keeps getting bad.
Then it gets "better".
And I think it's really better,
But then it's not.
And
I don't know.
I hate this.

You left me.
But you're still here.

How could that be?

How could you be so close,
But disappear every time I reach out?
Every time I need you -
Do you understand that I need you?

To everyone else you act so real
But when I am near you fade away like mist into nothingness -
Like a rainbow.
You're full of lies,
You intangible thing.

Do you understand how you lied?
Do you understand that you left me?
Do you understand that I love you?
I love you
I love you
I love you

Just say it back,
I love you too
or - at least an
I hate you.
Anything, anything to prove your existence,
Anything that gives me some sort of sign of what to do, what to think-

You can't just leave me like this.
Please.

Love me hard
Love me so it hurts
Love me 'till you can't
Love me forever after

Who are you?

Immovable ponytail
School hoodie
Rectangle glasses.

Obnoxious laughing
Oblivious, blunt
Complete idiot.

Niche interests
Fictional men
Cat pictures.

Motherly, Childish
Protective,
Silly.

Passionate
Empathetic
Loving.

Off-p­utting art
Little trinket gifts
Poetry.

…
Who are you?

Thirty Nine,
Itsy bitsy.

Yeah, thats you.

Hah hah hah
Isn’t it funny

Funny how everything kind of *****
And we’re stuck in the same repetitive loop

Every day and every day and every day
And we’re constantly just working towards another repetition,
Another drain, more work,
And it never stops, does it?
No, it never stops

Because even in the intermissions
Your mind never stops
It never stops
You’ll never stop thinking thinking thinking
About everything, everything
All at once
All the time

And nothing nothing nothing
Because you’re truly are insignificant, aren’t you?
Isn’t this all insignificant in the end?
Yes, you lead a truly insignificant life.
Over 35,000 people are born every day,
About 100 billion people have died since the world began

Too much, much too much, and yet not quite enough
Not quite enough, no
It’s never enough
Never enough

You’re not enough
You’re nothing, remember?
Remember remember remember remember remember remember?

Remember, this is funny,
Because its all just a big ******* joke
Yeah, you’re a joke!
You’re so so funny, and you’re so so laughing right now.
No difference between laughing with or at, right?
Laughing and crying, am I right? Theres no difference

No difference
No difference
No difference

Remember, yeah?
Remember you can make that number about 100 billion and 1.

"I really don't understand whats wrong with you. You have a loving family and food to eat, and you didn't go through anything traumatic. You have no reason to be like this. It's like you want to be like this."
...
"We didn't even want to send you to therapy. We could've dealt with this ourselves. If you slip up once they'll take you away from us and put you straight into a hospital. Those people don't care about you, your friends don't care about you. Only your father and I do."
...
"Everyone else is happy and living their lives. You're the only one who is all sad. And nobody cares, they're going to just keep living regardless. Even I have to, so you're not going to stop me by being sad like this."

Listen
While I cry to you all the wrong of the world.

Hold me
While you whisper to me all of her beauty.

I watched 3 little boys try to buy oreos.

One was trying to shove a gummy bear into a coin slot
Another kneeled on the ground with dollar bills splayed in front of him
The other was trying - and failing - to type out the corresponding numbers for the oreos.

They yelled and laughed and pushed at each other in a beautifully obnoxious sort of way.

A boy puts in a dollar and out comes a coin - but no cookie packet.
They're confused, so they run off to get a woman, mom, to help.

I take the chance to step forward and buy my own peanut butter cookie.
As well as step back and love my child self.

I don’t have myself in me
My insides are hollow and dull
My mind is foggy gray
And my heart is a darkened ash

I don’t have poetry in me
My words have run dry
My language has lost its depth
And I can’t find how to end this stanza

Blame me for my pain
Chastise me for my tears
Reprimand me for feeling
and for saying what you don’t want to hear.

I’m sorry that I hurt so much
Hurt so much that it leaks through my tear-ducts,
Bleeds through my scars,
and reaches you—
You.

You make it all about you.
Because how could I be so selfish.
How could I dare hurt you
By hurting myself.

Don’t you think I could’ve used a shoulder to cry on?
Hands to soothe?
Arms to sink into?
Because I think do.

All I sunk into was myself,
I repressed all you saw was wrong with me
Deep deep within me.
Deep deep until I was no longer me
Or I.
Deep deep until I no longer was.

Lost lost
Lost in myself,
Losing myself.
I’m losing
myself.
And you’re losing me too.
God, how could I do this to you.

I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry for hurting.

Pretty little flower
Growing as you please

Pretty yellow flower
Pesky little ****

Roses, orchids, hydrangea
Are gifted and adored

Pretty Dandelion
They stomp tug cut

But pretty fluffy white
Remember this clear

When the hopeful children blow
Wishes are the greatest gift

They rather gaze upon my wall of sullen blue certificates
And black and white report cards

Over the wall of art, creation, life
And the expanse that is I.