in a matter of moments
the world crumbling
falling to my knees

the unbearable pain,
the continual need
to cry

my strength,
it's fading
quickly

i can't hold
on anymore

I can feel my heart break,
Like a physical pain in my chest,
And my breaths are coming out ragged
Because the words you spoke
Are tearing me apart

But you don't notice
Because you're angry at yourself
And my feelings seemed not to matter
And it makes me feel that
I would be better off dead

she was always looking away
at the river, the sun, her phone
never did her eyes meet anyone
else's, and she never smiled

she was sick and fragile
and never smiled
but people loved her anyway
as they hugged her and held her close
she never smiled

she'd answer their questions
in the least personal way
and they wouldn't ask
too many questions or
anything that was personal
and she'd ask many questions
leading into personal parts
of their lives

she sat alone
with her hair hanging like
a curtain in front of her face
hiding her brokenness from the world

worst of all, she hid behind this falseness
that she showed off to the world
a blank mask that held everyone
at an arm's length
and she never smiled

I find myself
getting childishly
envious of
people in the
streets who
are holding
cigarettes

it hurts
breathing,
living,
existing.

it hurts knowing that
wherever i go
i'll be stuck in
this fear of -
i don't even know what.

but in the darkest parts
of my mind i can see
his face, his smile, his
eyes and the way they
drank me in like liquid love.

it didn't even happen
like that,
in a dark place,
but i'll never be able to see
him without the hatred
boiling inside
and bubbling away.

it hurts to be sitting,
having a good day
and one thing reminds
me of him,
of his moment of triumph,
and my stomach caves
and i feel the tears threaten.
i close my eyes
and wish everyone away.

i keep thinking that he loved me,
he said so,
he said it and i believed it
and for so long
i forced myself to believe
that what happened
was okay
because
he loved me.

A whisper rises as the wind blows and I close my eyes to listen
I can't understand what's said by the trees
But I love to listen, more than anything else
It's calming, soothing, almost therapeutic
And the sun kisses my face softly as the soft breeze brushes by
Sitting up this high should scare me, would scare me
But sitting at the top of trees has always been my favourite place
I can hear the whisper of the leaves as the breeze teases me
And I close my eyes again, thankful for this quiet little place
That I can truly call *mine

this is the story of a girl
who is conditioned to believe
that her achievements aren't worth
celebrating, because there are
others doing better than her.

this is the story of a girl,
who's afraid to talk in a group
because she's been conditioned
to believe that what she has to say
isn't worth adding to the conversation;
tired of having people talk over her.'

this is the story of a girl,
who's afraid to in the dark,
afraid that one of the horrors in her
mind have managed to crawl out
and haunt her.

this is the story of a girl,
who never feels like she's good enough.
a girl who tries her best with every
chance, but she's been conditioned
to believe that she can't do it.

this is the story of a girl,
who second guesses every opinion
that she shares, because she's been
conditioned to think that her opinion
is one of those that doesn't matter.

this is the story of a girl,
who feels like she doesn't matter,
because when she was reaching out,
desperate for someone to tell her that she
will be okay, nobody paid her attention.

this is the story of a girl,
who often loses hope, and always
find it difficult to regain it.

it hurts that you're so far away
and you don't need me
and you're so busy living
and i'm left behind,
forgotten,
something to be dealt with
on a rainy, quiet day

nostalgia sticks as i try to stop thinking
listening to the intros to my favourite
animes that were more than just a
comfort for so many years.

i want to stop thinking, but i can't.
make it stop. i want to be okay.
make it stop. i'm tired of feeling
exhausted, tired of being depressed,
tired of being nothing more than a
robot to my anxiety and society.

now's my favourite intro. i'm listening,
trying to force myself to remember the
times i watched bleach with my sister,
trying to remember what the happiness
felt like.

make it stop.
please.

i am afraid
to trust my
heart because
it has betrayed
me too
many times
to be fooled
again

i read a poem that made me question
the things i've been calling poetry
it made me feel that what i write
simply isn't enough

i could do better

the poem was about a woman
and i felt whole
and the words weren't for me,
about me,
but i felt whole
in ways i can't explain
and i'll never be able to

but i thought to myself
that this is poetry
and this is what words
are supposed to do
they're supposed to make
you feel things
regardless of what
and i kept wondering
if my words
have that effect

i want people to yern,
long,
hope,
survive off my words,
devour them
and i want my words
to leave them longing
and hoping for just a bit more

and i read this poem not once,
not twice,
but three times,
eating up the words like they
were the last meal on earth
and i felt whole

each moment passes by,
and i can barely pretend to care.
i watch them pass with less
emotion than i watch the street below,
wondering when will my time
to live arrive?

each moment stretches out,
around me, and closes in,
but it's no different than yesterday
and the day before.
as the moments suffocate me,
they make me wonder:
when will my time
to live arrive?

i know that i am safe in the day
when i have your company
to help fight the bad thoughts off
and make me feel okay

but at 4 am
when the roads are empty
and the only sound is you,
your soft breathing in the night
the occasional turn in your sleep

my thoughts get heavy
too heavy for me to hold,
too strong for me to fight
and i desperately try to find a way
to escape them

but i am weak
and they always catch me,
and hold me captive
forcing me to acknowledge them
as they whisper ugly truths
into my ears

i am a wooden cross
with a young girl strapped to
my chest. she is crying, i can
feel the fear, her desperation , running
through her body, thrashing as
she tries to break free of the bonds.

'are you a witch?' they ask her,
the crowd standing in front is
staring at her, waiting on her
next words. she weakly denies but
they are angered and feel defied.

at the bottom of my body, beneath
her feet, lies kindle and they touch
a burning torch to the loose straw and
immediately it flares up into flames,
beginning to burn my base.

the girl screams out, she doesn't deserve this,
she never wanted any of this. 'witch, witch' the
crowd chants as the fire crawls up my structure.

i can feel her fear as she tries to break free, the fear
grips my soul and there is nothing that i can do
but to hold her in place as she burns for crimes
that she did not commit.

you pretend to miss me
but i know you better than you think
i know the giveaways when you're lying
the words you use to avoid the truth

the pretending needs to end
i can't be your last call anymore
i don't want to be your second thought
when you're planning things

My bedroom floor is littered
with letters all addressed to you
that you will never read
or even hear of.

i can see them standing together,
holding each other's hand in the summer
and i want to tell them to leave, that
this is wrong.

i want to tell her of his fury,
of the force he will inflict on her children.
i want to tell him that she's isn't right,
that they will have fights and things,
that they will forever regret, will happen.

i want to tell them that if this happens,
they will put the kids into unhappiness
and their fights will affect the whole house.
i want to tell them that if this didn't happen,
they could meet people better for themselves

but i don't. i am selfish and i let them go,
i let them meet and hold hands and fall
madly in love. i let them fall out of love,
and i let the bad things happen

because i want to live, and i know
that love is just another person
suffering

Many of us though
Are just looking
For a hole
That society
Hasn't yet
Ruined

the memories won't go away
and i can't stop feeling like
you couldn't care less if i was here
or not.

it hurts that you couldn't care less,
that how i'm doing genuinely doesn't
matter. you're all up in your own head,
and when soemthing doesn't suit you,
you throw it away.

did i not suit you? did my depression get
the way of your night out?
you're throwing away 16 years of 'best friendship',
but part of me feels that i haven't mattered
to you in a long while.

i suppose it's your choice,
i'm tired of kissing your **** so that
i can call you my best friend.
it's your move.

it's a constant thought that i can't get out.
i want it to stop screaming out, filling my mind
at every waking moment, suffocating me
and stealing the good moments.

it won't stop. i want to think about life,
about my life, and my life with him. i don't
want the constant thought of what
everyone's lives would be like if i killed myself.

i know that it's because of the recent death,
but i'm afraid that deep down it's jealousy.
who am i to be jealous of a dead man who just
wanted life but was served death?

'the world is sad' we say
but is it? we are sad.
we are broken people,
broken by others who
couldn't think of another
way to hurt themselves.

we pretend that dreaming is
bad, because people who've
accepted the failure are afraid
of others repeating their mistakes.

we act like feelings are bad,
because when you show
your emotions, you're weak and
nobody wants to be seen as weak.

what if we stop pretending?
what if we start dreaming,
working hard to achieve our goals.
what if we stop hiding who we are?

for once, let's stop pretending and
be true to ourselves. dream. fight for
what you need. be the sunshine you
want in your life, and others will
reflect it.

it's time we stopped complaining and started trying.

it consumes you, like endless
darkness, pulling you in against
your will. it's holding you there,
listening to your terrified breathing
waiting for you to snap.

you can't escape without a fight
your entire life is based upon
this fight and how hard you try
to survive, but even when you're
winning, it'll only take a moment
to lose.

it doesn't wait for a certain age, either
it will take you regardless of whether
you're older or young or in your twenties
because what does it matter? a person
is just a person in the end.

nobody else can see you struggle
and part of it is to be afraid of asking
for help because people will look at
you strangely, and they will make
you feel worse

how will you survive in the face
of death?

thinking, hoping, wondering.
for so long it was a question of
when life would begin to progress
forward - until now, when it is
happening.

am i ready? can i handle this?
for so long i'd only dreamed of
the mere possibility to the point
that, perhaps, i never believed
it would happen.

and now, here i sit. wondering.
everything i've been waiting for,
everything i've been working towards.
every day when i thought i couldn't go
on, every night when i didn't want to;
the dream was all that held me.

and now it is here. and i sit.
wondering.
am i ready?

If I close
my eyes I can
still feel your lips
upon my skin

death and fear either makes us, or breaks us
it will change us, or show our true colors
it helps us realize who we can trust
and makes us hate something we once didn't

panic shows in our eyes, like we're animals
it claws in our mind until we're insane
drives us up the wall until we rocking back and forth
we sit there wishing for it all to stop, to shut up,
but it won't

the distance steals
the oxygen from
my lungs as i lie
awake at three
am thinking of
you

in the end
what does the
world matter
when I don't?

my demons whisper to me
as i lie awake at night.
they tell me to put them
into words, immortalize
them between the pages
of a book.

but i am afraid that someone
will find them, that someone
will end up with them
in their own head, and i can't
imagine putting someone else
through that.

the hatred that humans hold will destroy
cities, homes, families and lives.
taking each person victim and tearing
apart the life that they have come to know
and come to love.

the world will crumble and the dust will
run with tears and blood and fear.
the hatred will birth more hatred.
people will fear for themselves and their
loved ones in a way we shouldn't need.

the children will be broken, their spirits
smashed in the war, and their innocence
thrown aside as they become soldiers.
the world will be destroyed by hatred.

the sound of water running
and your coughs as you shower
at four am
trying to clear your lungs
in hopes of being able to
breathe freely

i lie in bed, waiting
hoping,
afraid that you won't
be able to get back
to sleep after this

and all i want
for you is
a peaceful night's
sleep

you would think that a friendship like
ours was indestructible.
you would think that friends as close
as we were would always
drift right back to each other.

i know that you weren't intending to
repair the rift between us,
but i'd been hoping - and you knew it.
you know me.

i was stupid, i was hoping.
but you've disappeared again,
and i feel like a fool.

I could
Be dead
Right now
And absolutely
Nobody would notice

Hide the evidence,
that's the first thing you learn to do.
Clean up the blood, wipe away the tears,
no one can know, no one must see,
pull down the sleeves and hide the blades.

You develop a fear of people knowing,
you begin to flinch when it looks like they'll lift your sleeves.
When it's hot you let out a groan of irritation,
what was it like not having to always wear long sleeves?
It's been so long that you can't remember

Will things get better?
You can't tell - all you know is the pain, the relief.
You lock yourself away in your room
and cry yourself to sleep;
but you're not alone

a wise man once told me about the stars
a wise man once taught me how to draw
a wise man walked along the beach with me
a wise man built cities in the lounge with my junk
a wise man helped me see marbles as people for my city

a wise man once held me as i cried
a wise man once wiped away my tears
a wise man once heard me tell him about a broken ******
a wise man once gave me money for smokes
a wise man once told me that he wouldn't tell my mom

a wise man once told me that he loves me
and i told him that i did too