By. Lauren

This is a happy poem.
Proud of myself poem.
Confident in where I am at poem.
Poem I never write poem.
Today I have a purpose.
My lungs are still breathing in air purpose.
My heart is still pumping blood purpose.
I am feeling proud of myself purpose.
What a happy poem.
I have a purpose.

By. Lauren

Growing up my mother told me to follow my dreams.
Step by step I grew.
From teaching to cardiology, all the dreams I wanted to pursue.
It's just then the day came.
When my clock was coming to a slow.
The ticking about to stop.
And my future here for me to pursue.
My mother told me not to let the world hold me down with their dreams for me.
But when my clock was out and it was time to leave my mother laid some rules.
It was no longer about my happiness.
It was not my future I had to pursue.
It was all her dreams for me.
She told me I must grow old and have a family.
A dream I never had for myself at all.
She told me these words "Lauren you are a career-oriented person, but that is not what you must pursue."
All she wanted for me was a future.
A real one.
But it was not the happy world I had wanted to pursue.
So I had to let her down.
And live the life I had always envisioned.
The one I wanted to pursue.

By. Lauren

Questioning your sexuality is like stabbing yourself in the back multiple times a day.

By. Lauren

My quiet love wasn't enough for you.
I tried and tried,
But I bet she said the things I wanted to tell you first.
The things I didn't have the guts to say.
Like "I love you".
Love never ends well for a girl like me.
Not when you're shy.
Not when your voice trembles more than you speak.
I thought I warned you!
I told you not to break my heart.
"I'm fragile," I said to you.
Yet you did it anyway.
Made me shatter in fragments impossible to see.
For you I was venerable gave you all the parts of me I was afraid to share.
The parts of me that were not perfect.
The parts I was still revising after my last quiet love story.
But you left me!
You dumped me!
Left me feeling like I had done something wrong!
Our love never meant **** to you.
I told you I was shy yet you discarded of it the same way you dumped me.
I'm sorry I could never say "I love you".
I hope you're happy with her.
Happy with her love.
A love that speaks louder than I could ever.

By. Lauren

Is this really real?
Are you really here right now?
I heard the knock of a door.
Just my mind deceives me.
Are you really in my bed right now?
Or do I just want you.
Do you actually know my name right now?
Or am I dreaming?
I'm afraid I'm dreaming.
Pinch me if this is real.
Am I even writing this or are my thoughts just racing?
Am I just playing a game
Or are you here in my room?
In my bed next to me.
My heart is racing.
Is yours too?

By. Lauren

Relapse.
Another.
Another.
And yet another.
The place I'm at.
The place where my world spins.
The place where I can't look at food.
The place where I've lost 20 pounds.
The place where my blood is drawn.
The place where the world can see I am sick.
I am living in relapse
After relapse.
It just seems like an endless pit of sick.

By. Lauren

They say if you repeat a word it eventually losses it's meaning.
Is this the case for human life?
A repetition of birth and death.
The repetition of 7,655,957,369 people.
Have we lost our meaning?
Death has became an every day affair along with birth.
Why do we grieve if we have already lost our meaning.

By. Lauren

I'm feeling kinda sad.
It's been years since I was in this place.
Yet today, you felt the need to entangle me in bed sheets
and clothes too big to be my own.

By. Lauren

The release of a scream was the most awaited part of my day.
An opportunity to release my pain.
No more feelings.
No more emotions.
Just an opportunity to feel normal.
The long awaited break.
The release of built up stress.
A simple scream that would change it all.
Just a scream that made my day normal once more.

By. Lauren

Stop and look into my eyes, give me a minute of time. Hang on in there don't let me stare. Two weeks ago you lost your voice. All that was left of you was the light in your eyes telling the world that you were not okay. They stared into your eyes like a midnight sky. You beard the truth no one could stand. Their world broke you in two. Their world made you into a catastrophe of missing sound. Your missing voice was the only scream for help that they could hear that night. His hands left scars in your mind deeper than a razor blade to skin. Your body spoke the truth. If only they had opened their eyes wide enough to see. He was there for you the world will say. If he was there for me then why do I bear these scars you will scream. Asking for a answer is like searching for clean water in Africa. It's nearly impossible! The world has their own truth, but it won't line up with your puzzle piece. After he rapped you, you where stuck searching for your voice. After he rapped her she was left searching for more details to the story to tell her friends. After he rapped the next girl. The police went hunting for a reason to shut her up. Your voice will never be the same. They say ignorance is bliss. If that's the case then why is the world searching for that river of sorrow you felt that night.

By. Lauren

That one slice can make a difference in your life.
That one second of release leads to two more of pain.
The once known freedom of the wind caught in your wings will soon become the feeling of blood dripping down you sleeves.
The once celebrated days of being clean will soon become the dreaded number of un satisfaction.
You will find yourself unable to count how many times on your fingers and toes as your body aches from those days.
You will find yourself in the days of regret viewing your scars.
Every last one tells it's own story.
As the scars fade the stories will linger.
Because on that day you started the tragedy that wrote your story.
Voices will begin to whisper when you hear that call over the intercom. Someone cared about your story. Sadly the whispers will outnumber the amount of care you receive that day as you enter the office with tears in your eyes.
Because that one second of release led to more than a lifetime of pain.
Every year on that day you will once again find yourself counting the days.
Even though those scars have faded.
Your mind still knows the tails of how you made it out alive. How you beat those demons. How you where your own knight in shining armor.

By. Lauren

Shame them for being virgins.
Shame them for not being virgins.
I miss your childhood innocence.
Rumors never seemed to leap from your lips those days.
Now rumors spread like wildfire.
Melting faster than a ice cube on a summer day.
Why dose it matter to you?
Must one scream their ****** status at the early age of 15?
You will shame me either way.
Why must I share the news?
If you really care yes I am a ******.
It's just I will be shamed either way.
You will always
Shame them for being virgins.
And even
Shame them for not being virgins.
Your childhood innocence will never retreat back to your lips
so I guess none of us are truly virgins after all.

By. Lauren

I look out the window in hope of seeing your beautiful eyes looking back at me.
You always knew how to shine right into my thoughts almost as if you where the sun.
Your brown eyes sparked a light in me that could not seem to burn out.
Your eyes never dulled even in the darkest of times.
I always loved how even when you where sad your eyes still produced a happy vibe.
You made me want to smile even after my pet died.
Your eyes took care of my heart igniting a flame of love in me.
I fell for your rays like a flower searching for the sun.
Except soon a cloudy day came.
Your love for me depleted and you no longer shone.
Today I look out the window once more and see your eyes have dulled and now escaped my view.
And once more my heart has withered.

By. Lauren

The word sick is poison to my lips.
The word sick makes me want to cry.
The word sick makes my stomach churn.
157 million people in our world suffer from some form of chronic illness.
These people go their whole lives learning to spell diseases many doctors are unable to pronounce.
Hospital visit after hospital visit yet we refuse to claim ourselves sick.
The word sick gives me the sense of failure.
The sense of caving into my chronic illness.
The word sick makes me want to cry.
Because the word sick means I have given up all hope that resides in my mind.

By. Lauren

Silence,
Silence,
Silence,
Shushing.
Why is it we sigh in relief?
A leap for joy when no words are to be said.
The fading of a pounding sensation in the head.
The souls who most long for it seem to never find it.
Silence,
Silence,
Silence,
I must shush now before my words become poison to someone else's mind.

By. Lauren

What's that?

By. Lauren

Last night a tear dripped down my cheek onto my pillow.
You sat there on the other end of the line and listened to my sniffle.
It pains me to think that my sniffle brought on a ripple.
Tonight I sit here and wait for yet another tear to drip down my cheek onto my pillow.
Because my sniffle is a never ending ripple.
For that, I owe you an apology the next time you pick up the line to my tears dancing down my cheek onto my pillow. And you hear yet another sniffle.

By. Lauren

My feelings are soft and tender.
Easy to break and even easier to melt away.
My love has always been a sensitive feeling.
It's hard to find it within me.
It's always missing when the good people come around.
It's always there when the bad people come to find it.
It's yet another feeling in my magical bouquet of broken.
I've never known who to trust my feelings with.
Where should I send them when my body must go?
I just need a vacation.
A chance to grow.
Grow feelings that aren't so fragile.
Something that won't melt away in the scorching summer heat.
A feeling that I can not break.

By. Lauren

3AM poetry has soft lips I do not get to kiss often, so when I do I want to kiss back.

By. Lauren

Something happened today.
Something big.
Something grand.
Something I can't say.

By. Lauren

They say I stare more than I blink.
How could you not when our world is so dark?
All I can do is stare and think.
I'm sorry that I am who I am.

By. Lauren

They told me make it count,
But how do you do so?
When there's nothing left to count.
No sheep in the field waiting to escape.
Only a barrel of stress no one can erase.
The cry of a student.
Only work to do.
I just need a rescue.
A break from this mess.
A way to unwind.
More sheep to count in my head.
An escape from this stress.
No poems that I need to write.
Just a day in a life where it actually all counts.
A message from god saying it will all be
Okay.

By. Lauren

You where never one to strike my interest.
Walking around with your mallet yet missing every cue.
Must I keep tempo for you?
Each beat to lose myself in.
Yet another tick from interest.
Will you ever learn the rhythm?
Will you ever strike my interest?
It seems like all you know is walking around with your mallet missing every blatant cue.
Must I help you?

By. Lauren

You whispered sweet nothings into my ears.
You where a shadow that chased me around.
Did you ever really love me or was it all a hoax?
A chance to get back at me for all the mistakes I made.
So the next time you dare whisper sweet nothings in my ears you'll get a whisper and a punch back.

By. Lauren

Swish.
Swash.
Swish
Swash.
Faster,
Swishidy.
Swashidy.
My mind is a washing machine gone rouge.
A high speed chase for sanity.
I've lost my own key to that of which I once owned.
A homeowner locked out for the 10th time in a day.
For now I will keep searching until the
Swishidy,
Swadiding,
Becomes a calm
Swish,
Swash,
Swish,
Swash,
Once more.

By. Lauren

I know I'm just a teen but I have my needs.
I have my dreams.
The life in a city.
The fun of a day.
Living the life I have always dreamed.
A day with you.
A need of mine.
Without you my life is only the dream of a teen.
What more can I be?

By. Lauren

This color blue so dark and rich.
It covers my nails.
Then I realize this was your favorite color.
Once again since the day you left me
I am deeply saddened.

By. Lauren

That call,
The last straw,
The last day
Of my past.
The change of one day
Can be enough to change a life.
On that day,
My life changed.
On that day
my future was burnt into me.
As she stared into my eyes
My heart seemed to race.
My mind seemed to overflow with the sorrow of past years
The razor never dug deep enough to bleed out.
Finally in the span of one breath. The words I was dreading the most were spoken aloud .
On that day I knew why I was there.
And my life changed.

By. Lauren

Ice cream.
Melting.
Dripping.
Falling.
Splatting.
Crying.
Creating.
Giving.
Licking.
Swallowing.
Smilin­g.

By. Lauren

As I sit at the lunch table,
Time seems to slow.
They seem to freeze.
My tears seem to stop.
My heart seems to start.
My pulse seems to increase.
My mind seems to race.
My life seems to end.
And I am left all alone, once again.

By. Lauren

I find myself missing the people I never seemed to know.
Not up to date on their name change
Yet I find myself craving them.
Craving their forgiveness for my cluelessness.
I wish I would've known better then.
I wish I would've listened better then.
Listened to what they were going through then.
But I'm afraid it's too late.
I made the mistake.
I wish I could've apologized to them.
If only I could go back to then.
Back to then when they were them.
Back to the time, I didn't comprehend them.
Back to a day, I could explain myself to them back then.
I guess this poem is as close as I'll ever get.
I feel sorry.
But I bet they've moved on from then.
I just wish I could apologize to them.

By. Lauren

Bury me in the pink petunias I used to call home.
As my heart stops beating.
My mind stops over analyzing and contemplating.
My hands stop racing to write down all the words I create per second.
My mouth stops moving.
And my poems stop generating.
So bury me in the pink petunias I now call home once more.

By. Lauren

I have braces, wait I'm sorry.
Did I say braces?
I meant the torture device in which wraps around my teeth like a hungry shark longing for a midnight snack until the point that my teeth feel as if they are about to fall out.
The feeling is like that last front tooth that you lost when you were seven wiggly yet you couldn't let it go.
The torture device feels as if a box of floss  was tied around my teeth getting tighter and tighter and tighter every month to the point that my teeth just want to give in.
It's only been three weeks now but my torture device is just now adapting to getting tighter.
Every single month a different color or as I like to call it a different shade of pain.
Because I have braces.
Braces,
Braces,
Braces.
I miss the days in which I could read my poetry aloud without spitting all the way across the room, because every time I talk I put my hand over my face to wipe the  spit connecting my bottom and top row of teeth away due to embarrassment.
The man I once thought would to be my friend is now the torture of my teeth and gums.
He has made it to the point that have the worst lisp causing me to be at the point that I can't even read.
Because I have braces.
Braces,
Braces,
Braces.
So if you asked me to count the number of brackets I have broken in the course of my three weeks I don't think I would have enough fingers or toes.
If you asked me how many people I have heard complaining about this constant issue I would be absolutely clueless.
Because everywhere I turn I hear
Braces,
Braces,
Braces.
The constant words being spoken "no I can't eat that" "no I'm sorry I can't, I have an orthodontist appointment" "oh my god my bracket just broke" not to mention the most dreadful one of them all "my wire just popped out and the first second you feel like you're going to squirt blood on the the next person that tries to talk to you to the point all you can see is a ****** scene of blood on their body.
Because you have braces.
A torture device  that you have been told you will get off in 2 1/2 years.
But you know far too well that it'll be a long journey.
Because you have braces.
Braces,
Braces,
Braces.
And you will have braces.
Braces,
Braces,
Braces,
For what feels like the rest of eternity.

By. Lauren

Speaking has never been a talent of mine. I think more than I speak and often find myself thinking and forget to say what I was thinking.
I observe and think then I preserve the sight in the form of poetry.
I know it is not convenient to live this way. It's just this is who I am; the girl who thinks but does not seem to speak.

By. Lauren

Time.
You asked me to waste my time.
Take a second or two.
Can't you see I've got things to do and places to be?
Time.
Time is gone.
I can not waste it on you.
I'm sorry but I have no time.
Today you have wasted enough of my time.
So tomorrow I would just like to remind you I've got things to do and places to be.
That does not mean I have time for you.
Goodbye.

By. Lauren

To all the girls I've loved,
My love for you dug into my veins like a shard of glass searching for any resemblance of blood left in me. After you shattered like mirror that I looked into, my heart broke too.
Our love was stronger than words could speak until you took the last bit of my innocence and discarded of me like a plastic bag. To you I was a game just waiting to be won. If only I had wiped the hazy fog from my eyes soon enough to see that you were just the devil taking a hold of me. Boy was I wrong when I discarded the advice of others. They spoke truth. Our love was merrily a puzzle piece in the complex puzzle we call life. Every which turn I take I am faced with the same reality. The blunt truth indeed. Our love was more toxic than all the skull labeled barbells I surrounded myself with.  You were just a chess master waiting to call checkmate on me. If only I had left before we got so far. Our love was a monster under my bed waiting to pull me under and call me crazy. I was crazy. Our love was crazier than the epidemics we see on TV. To all the girls I've loved, there is no need for apology. For our love was far too complex to simplify into one poem.

By. Lauren

The feeling of pain.
The spinning of a room.
The collapsing of all that was once calm.
Pain engulfs the receiver
Causing a scream.
The transportation of doom through the once peaceful spinal cord.
Pain comes in many forms.
The tolerable,
The torture,
The needed,
And the long doomed killing.
Without pain some would not feel real.
With pain there's just want to be
Dead.

By. Lauren

He touched me.
He yelled out to me.
Peacefully walking down the street when he reached out for me.
Making all the motions not seeming to care.
They said it was my fault.
But was I really asking for it?
Skinny jeans and a T-shirt.
Was I really the one to blame?
My hands were trained.
We keep to ourselves in a shameless game.
Why must we be trained?
Countless years in therapy still unable to erase the pain.
His force upon us.
Why must we learn to forget?
The scars are still there yet our eyes must not weep.
The tears shall not commence.
Because I was trained after that day to keep my mouth shut.
"Nothing happened to me" I was taught to say.
I am not an object.
I am just simply afraid to this day.
He touched me and that's all I am here to say.
Just from this day forward, I will keep my mouth shut like I did before.
My tongue is tied like it was taught to before.

By. Lauren

When my poems are trending I am filled with glee. The red notification makes me leap for joy. Because when my poetry is trending I feel like I am making an impact on the world. When my poetry is trending I am ecstatic.

By. Lauren

You ask me how I am and I just have to say fine.
Because,
how do you explain an illness that nobody can see?
It's like you're drowning, but nobody can save you.
I suffer from a chronic illness,
but
how would you know?
Because, my pain is as invisible as my illness.
To you I'm fine.
To you I'm far away from being sick,
but
my body is slowly rejecting me.
I did not know that this would be my life.
I just woke up one day,
and this was my new beginning.
For you every day is relatively easy,
you say oh I'm having a bad day,
but if only you could see how every day for me is a constant battle.
For me my body is saying no.
If only you could see how my body refuses to get out of bed, as the blood rushes from my head down to my legs.
I just wish that the world could truly see how much I am hurting,
and know that this is not going anywhere.
I wish people would realize what chronic truly means.
Yes, one day I could wake up without this just like how I got it,
but that's not likely, at this moment.
I'm not just going to recover.
You tell me, oh I hope you get better soon.
I hope you recover before school starts. This is why I don't want to call this an illness.
Because, it's a syndrome I'm going to suffer from longer than you could ever imagine.
This was not something I chose.
This is not something I would make up.
I can't really even function.
I miss going out with my friends.
I'm not trying to reject them, just some days I wish they could realize how much my body is rejecting me not them.
For me my illness does not define me,
but for me, as well,
it is going to be everlasting.

By. Lauren

"I thought only sick people took pills."
Oh honey the things the world will tell you.
The things I want to teach you.
Don't believe everything,
It's not all truth.
But honey your eyes will deceive you.
The deepest pains lie innermost where you can not see them.
These pills.
These pills tell a different story.
A tale of two worlds one you can not see.
A world that lies within me.
A world where broken isn't visible.
These pills.
These pills are the only link between my worlds.
The reminder of reality.
The reminder that I too am sick.
Honey what you must know is sick isn't always visible.
Broken isn't always beautiful.
Pills are not only for the sick but the day dreamers too.

By. Lauren

I was never much of a love poet until the day I met you.
Love poems always made me cringe until I met you.
Their rhymes always tasted like poison until I met you.
Until I met you a poem about love sounded like a story of prison.
A cell one could not escape.
Until I met you a love poem sounded like starving children.
A needy guest thriving off its host.
Just now that I've met you a poem without love is a poem lacking feelings.
Without you my poetry is bland.
An empty house only the poorest of visitors feel welcomed in.
My poetry without you feels useless.
It's as if it's not worth reading.

By. Lauren

I feel like a visitor to my own life.
A intruder looking through a foggy window.
Each step is a step farther than who I use to be.
All I know is the past.
I know not of the future for I am a guest in my own body.

By. Lauren

Two shootings in one day.
What has our world come to?
It's so easy to get a gun nowadays.
The other week I was behind a man in the store checkout line.
He wanted to buy a gun.
It was no hassle for him, simply sign his name on the dotted line.
They asked to see his ID but the man was not from this state where it is so easy to get a gun so they let him pay and he later left
grinning from cheek to cheek.
This is America our children once would say.
I'm proud to live in a nation where no harm will come to me.
If only they could've seen that in the future in El Paso Texas a deadly shooting would **** 20 people and injure more than two dozen others.
And in a span of less than a day, there would be many more.
9 people killed and 27 more injured in Dayton Ohio just 13 hours later.
How are we expected to raise our future children in this nation where there have been  249 shootings in the past 215 days?
For every 100 American citizens, there are 122 guns.
Why must our world result to such violence?

By. Lauren

I never wanted to be here.
Not here.
Not in this room.
Not anywhere.
I never wanted to be me.
Not in this body anyway.
I've always wanted to leave here.
Leave me.
Leave this body that has treated me so unfair.
I never have given any care.
Not to this body.
It doesn't care for me anyway.
I never wanted to slice it open.
See its blood.
I never wanted to see my blood.
I never wanted to see it drip.
Feel it drip.
Make it drip.
I've just never wanted to be alive.
Not here.
Not in this world.
Not where I have been treated so cruel.
I've never liked all the slurs.
The hurtful things they scream.
I don't want to hear them scream.
And I can't.
And I won't.
And I still stay.
Stay silent.
I just want to leave.
I've never wanted to be here.
Not here.
Not there.
Not with them.
Not in this body anyway.

By. Lauren

My family has never seemed to get themselves weaned.
Not from the drugs.
Not from the alcohol.
Not from the smoking.
Not from the abuse.
Not even from the bleeding.
Year after year another resolution.
I will change they always seem to say.
Relapse after relapse they always seem to peruse.
We have never been weaned.
Learning our habits from one another not knowing that's what we should not do.
It's become our DNA.
Our flesh and blood.
Self-harm took me over too.
2 years of cutting watching the pain watching my blood go down the drain.
Yet another one not able to be weaned so soon.
Crying in the bathroom full of fears full of tremors full of hopelessness.
Yet another lost hope.
Life was useless to me
A dream I would never be able to see.
I couldn't be weaned.
Each night I tried to stop.
Just breathe and look at the ceiling.
Remaining yet another lost cause.
I never knew how small my room was until I was enclosed in the space that I couldn't escape.
I never knew how large my mind was until I was lost in all of its emptiness.
I couldn't be weaned.
Night after night memorizing my scars adding on to my collection.
It took 3 years without help to finally get here.
I just hope I can stay.
Hope I can change my DNA.
No more losing blood.
No more watching others struggle.
We all will be weaned.
Weaned of the drugs.
Of the alcohol.
Of the smoking.
Of the abuse.
And even the bleeding.

By. Lauren

You asked me how the weather was but how was I supposed to answer?
Did you want the weather outside
Or
The weather in my mind?
Either way there was a storm brewing.
The water about to fall.
So I guess I'll say
The weather is muy mal.

By. Lauren

You told me we needed to talk.
The words that upset me the most.
The words you frequently spoke.
Not due to anger.
Just simply being disappointed in your own spawn.
Every time I apologized you said it was fine.
If it was truly fine then why must you yell?
Why must you yell "we need to talk."
Your voice raising to interfere mine.
Why must you take that tone?
The sounds never interlocking only blocking.
"I'm sorry" is all I know how to say.
Yet you continue to raise your voice
Because "we need to talk."

By. Lauren

What is poetry?
A lost art form I can not seem to remember?

By. Lauren

You use to whisper in my ear.
Where has your voice gone?
Last time I checked a whisper still had sound.
But you have faded away.
You use to whisper in my ear.
Now my ear is searching for your voice to reply.