Thank you for your time here.
You were amazing; you are and were fascinating.
You are and will be remembered dearly.
Goodbye, Monty Oum; in our memories everlasting.

Company is my friend
Who leaves the party first
No matter how hard
Loneliness and I have worked

The first to arrive is Anger
(Though no one really likes him)
He always brings Bitter
And sometimes Exhaustion

Tears comes by occasionally
But only when Depression's around
And when Suicide joins us
Every one leaves town

Insanity's a regular
But her humor is quite lame
And these are all my friends
And we do this every day

Help is the party-pooper
She's stuck up beyond belief
Always saying we just want Attention
Yet she only ever brings Grief

And so the party ends
And no one's feeling better
And every **** time I write
Suicide another letter

You'll find no loyalty to a country in me
A body of land is a body of land
And that is all it will ever be.

You'll find no tether to a grave with me
Mistakes were made for which must be paid
But before it's due, I will flee.

You'll find no tearful denials in my speech
The people have done what they thought they must
And that has never shocked me.

You'll find no willful positivity in me
The hand we've turned will be a lesson learned
Wether it be joy or misery.

You'll find little else but solidarity
My morals are my country
My strength is my mentality
My freedom, my nationality

You'll find little else but the strength to temper your mistakes
With stoic resignation I will watch
As this country breaks, it breaks.

Home is where I can curl up in bed
And recover from the world outside.
Home is where I can hear a calming timbre
And feel the chill of panic subside.

"Let's go home," take me home
I can't survive around all these people.
Can I go home, let's be home
What I can't predict is inherently lethal.

I want to ***** but I never ate.
I haven't breathed, I'll suffocate.
I'm hot and shaky, I'm shivering.
I'm gasping for air, I'm dying.

I forgot about reality, to be honest
Forgot how terrifying the world can be.
I forgot what it was to see others
I forgot what "living life," really means.

To live life, for me, is constant terror;
This city is made exclusively of rapists.
To live, for me, is to die before they catch me;
Every person is a murderer, a theif, an arsonist.

I was so comfortably wrapped in the cream of the crop
I forgot that other humans do live and exist.
I hit so many things on my long trip down
That seeing reality rationally is hit and miss.

I want to go home; where casual racism isn't an issue
As long as I don't open my door.
Where no one wants to hurt me, or scare me
In my little kingdom beneath the first floor.

I want to go home where I know what will scare me
Before I even pass it by.
I want to go home where the world doesn't remind me
About that knife, and death, and whys.

I want to go home. Back to the devil I know.
I am lost and unprepared.
I want to go home where I can live by not living
Locked in my room and so terribly scared.

I want to go home.

If we as humans could indeed fly
If we could take to the heavens and kiss the sky
If we could truly reach up with wings to guide us
It would feel much the same as falling in love.

These wings of mine are tipped with joy
The feathers woven from thoughts sweet and coy
The bones are hollow and made of steel
And the power of flight received in what I feel.

If we as humans could indeed soar
If we could shoot for the sky and past it for more
If we could fly our way straight to the sun
I reckon it'd feel much like finding the one.

Sweetheart
Babycakes
Love
Doll
Darling
Dear
***
Lovely

Stop.­*

You're making my skin crawl.
I don't respond well to kindness
So, please, do as the rest do
And just call me a *****.

The shadows hold stories
Of people never seen.
They creep up the walls,
They move within dreams.

Are you afraid yet?
Are you afraid to go?
Will you drag your feet?
Will you walk slow?

The night whispers things
No one wants to hear.
It sneaks through windows
And vomits into ears.

Are you afraid now?
Are you shaking, cold?
Are you panicking now?
Are you ready to go?

It's okay.
Just a moment of pain and then
nothing.

Nothing at all.

You've been waiting for a decade.

It's time to take your fall.

It didn't start out as a suicide attempt
But one cut after five too many
Death didn't look so scary.

It didn't start out as a suicide attempt
But twelve cuts in and the blood dripping down
Felt oddly akin to catharsis.

It didn't start out as a suicide attempt
But by the time help came-- far too early to be late--
Life's continuation seemed akin to regret.

His lips pull into a wretched smile
That used to make me follow suit
But as it forms around hurtful words
I know that, in truth,

He was always ugly
And I was just entertainment
He'd never see me equally
And I'd never be able to make him

He mocks all I can't change
And discourages all that I do
And I've not enough self-confidence
To counter the words he threw

How did I miss how hideous
This child of a boy could be?
As now, he's set the standard
Of my definition of ugly

You cried.
Your eyes were red and misty and
I was guilty; it was my fault but
I thought you were beautiful then.

You cried.
Without shame and unabashedly
And I was torn between comforting you
Or committing the sight to memory.

You cried.
Though I've seen little emotion on your face
I'm **** well sure I've never felt awe
To see anyone cry without any sort of grace.

You cried.
Somehow, that inspired me to write.
You cried.
And instantly made a friend of me for life.

Let's be children for a day (for a year)
And forget where the hell we came from
.
.
.
Forget where we're going.
We'll run and play and smile
And leave our nihilistic thoughts coughing in the dust.

Then we'll grow up all over again in a second
And files taxes while staring at a blank TV screen
Until we realize there's nothing more to do besides cry
Besides scream
Besides laying down and waiting for death to visit.

We'll clean the house until it's ***** and
We'll invite over a party of the entire world
And together we'll dance in a vertigo of color and light...
Until the last soul has gone home.
And we'll grow up all over again for the first time in a second.

We'll remember fear and send that country home.
We'll remember hate and send those people home.
We'll remember society and dress those people like us.
We'll remember money and haggle with that nation before we head to work.
We'll remember anger and fight and take that country's home for ourselves.

Now that we've grown up, we'll sneer at that dropout on the streets.
And that family who can't afford another bill.
And that mother without a husband.
And that husband with a husband.
And that wife with a wife.
And that child who's pursuing art.

See, now that we've grown up, we can't be seen with them.
We've grown too heavy for the clouds our heads used to live in.
Our heads are too dense for us to look up at old dreams.
But our hands are still light enough to tie a tie
And button our dress shirts.
Light enough to pay the train fare
And hand in a daily report to the boss.

I don't need a rhyme scheme to describe humanity.
There's nothing beautiful about it.
There's nothing that incites a beat.
I don't need a rhyme scheme for this.
I don't need to write a song without music
For something that never knew how to sing.

I'm in that mood
When I want a collar round my neck
Though I'll still be in control
Two bodies writhing, one bed.

I'm in that mood
When I shiver at my thoughts
And I prowl ever-restless
The house is freezing, I'm blazing hot.

I'm in that mood
When I'd beg for anything
And time is too slow
My eyes are open, I'm blind with need.

I'm in that mood
When shame is a foreign entity
And humiliation is impossible
Or perhaps exhilarating.

I'm in that mood
When I can't contain the desperation
And I'm far past coherent or sane
So very rushed yet patient.

I'm in that mood
Where I'd curse anyone who set me free
And my mind is an unending chant,
'Collar me, collar me.'

At the very least, I am aware of my regression
I find myself grasping for the pillars of my past
To ground me in the torrential rains and floods

I reached for a cigarette and it fixed nothing at all
I reached for the knife and it settled me for a moment
I reached for the religion that alienated me and my family

Within the music I used to listen to I found peace.
I found tears I hadn't realized I needed to shed.
And though the teachings are still to raw to read
I latched to the pillar of religion and it once calmed me.

This is the last thing I write with you in mind
You thought I've been writing for you
I don't write for those who need my time
Only when it best suits them to.

This will remain short and sweet, I've no energy to rant
This will remain a reminder not to continually reach out a hand
This will remain a stamp of me feeling closer than ever to done
This will remain exactly what it is, a poem for you: the last one.

I cannot reach my Muses
And I'm beyond terrified
I can hear their voices
But there's no spark inside

Perhaps I've found another
And have not realised it yet
But the possibility doesn't halt the panic
I worry and I fret.

It seems muse has become affection
It seems inspiration is admiration
It seems awe is now infatuation
It seems I cannot deal with this situation.

Muse, I am searching
Dear Muse, please come home
Muse, please stop hiding
Please see this blockade gone.

My Muse, do not remain silent.
My Muse, are you blocked from me?
My Muse, my love and inspiration
My kingdom for you to be free.

Life is right-handed
Just a little bit different
Just slightly inoptimal for you
Or perhaps you are inoptimal for life.

You live with your left hand outstretched
But recieve with only your right.
And the world was made ever so slightly
Without you in mind.

Belonging is overrated
Unless, of course, you already belong.
But you've never quite fit in a square box
You're slanted, just a bit.

Perfection is impossible
For all those who haven't acheived it, at least.
You've never been a failure, just
You've never really fit.

Life is right-handed and you
You are not.
You are not a victim, not marginalized
You are not excluded or left behind.

But you are left-handed
And Life is not
And the world was made ever so slightly
Without you in mind.

Lurking in the shadows
In which you hide your pain
Wrapped around the parts
Of yourself that cause you shame

I am Madness
I am insanity
I am all of you
And you are part of me

I don't think you're
Even half as calm as you pretend
I don't think this doesn't bother you
The way you insist it doesn't
But I'm not going to change
Because I'm not sorry yet

You've moved on
You let her go
And I couldn't
For the life of me
understand how
Or much less why

She is, she was, she will be golden
And you are silver and I am coal
I understand I am out of place and line
But I might never see a shine like this again
So I'm more than happy to endear myself to her
Despite what you might feel, think, or say

You've found a different ore. I've yet to see what kind
Because I'm far to occupied watching the gold fade away
Into pure diamond. I'm not sorry yet.
I don't know how exactly you feel. I know you don't approve
But I'm slowing inching towards apathy to your opinion
It's unfair that you'd reject this for me, no matter my rank

I am a crow of a coal ore; if it's shiny- I want it.
She is iridescent in all the ways you never saw
I pledge nothing, I promise even less; however,
I don't see myself growing tired of this glow
And though that terrifies me, I'll push forwards
Because I'm not ready to make your mistakes

And I'm not sorry yet, I regret nothing
And I may never feel remorse for catching
What you so carelessly ****** from yourself
I don't require perfection, this diamond may have her faults
I won't reject the simple scars of life and love and laughter
And though you call me your friend, I won't apologize

And in the future, both distant and near, this may be taboo
We may avoid the topic on tiptoe and let the feelings fester
You may wait and crave an apology, and I will do the same
But I'll never apologize for following what my heart calls happiness
And you will never apologize for not accepting this the way you want to
Thus, I am not sorry yet, and I will not be sorry later.

When I told you I was better
When I said I never relapsed
When I said the scars were healing
When I said the food stayed down
When I said you could do the same
When I said it gets easier

I lied.

I still cut and avoid food
Like the plague
I still cry at night
And there's nothing in the mirror
I don't hate

I still feel ugly
And hate the colour
Of my skin
I still pinch at my stomach
And feel so obese

I still say I'm 'erotophobic'
As though people want me
I still tell people I'm straight
And that 'I love God'

I'm still ashamed
I still blame myself
I still deny anything happened
I still believe I'm telling the truth

I'm still paranoid
I'm still afraid of everything
I still feel weak
I still have panic attacks

I still want to be held
I still pretend I like to comfort
I still pretend I'm strong
I still pretend I care

I still throw up
And my throat still hurts
I still smoke
And it still doesn't help

I still have rampant thoughts
I still hate conversation
I still feel inadequate
I still pretend I like my poetry

I still try to write my stories
The words no longer come to me
I still try to create a family of friends
I still can't abide the noise enough
To make it work

I'm still bitter
I'm still violent
I'm still unhappy
I still fake everything I do

I'm not really okay.
Not really.
And I wanted to say 'I'm sorry,'
I lied.

I imagine you already understand what I'm proposing
Though I don't quite feel I can openly say it yet.
I've laid down the groundwork I feel is necessary
And pushed the idea honestly, if not slightly indirect.

I imagine this may not work and I'm resigned to that.
I can see where I'd like to be though I'm satisfied here.
I've a picture in my head that I can't quite shake free
And it's bright, beautiful, untainted by fear.

I'm nothing but blunt though I'd like to think I've tact.
I'm not impatient enough to push and rush.
I'm don't believe my efforts will seamlessly bear fruit
But the possibilities are more than enough.

I imagine that I'm not reaching, not stretching
To make something that can't exist.
I imagine but, if I'm wrong,
I'm quite content as is.

With a smile on her face
She hates
And wishes them all to die

With a tear and a frown
He cries
But truly feels no pain inside

With a chuckle of mirth
She hugs
But the words fester and leave a mark

With a harsh bark and unkind words
He attacks
Just to protect his heart

The faces we wear in public
A lie covering what we feel
The disguises we use to protect ourselves
Never showing what is real

I cannot breathe.
I cannot breathe.
My heart beats too quickly.
My mind will not cease.

There is an itch
Under both skin and muscle.
There is an itch
I scratch till I bleed; it will not settle.

This is not a display of my personality
The politeness; "yes, sir," "no, ma'am"
This is not who I normally strive to be
"Thank you," "no, thank you," "please."

I am beyond help now
I understand this clearly
I am lost now
To this itch inside me.

Is craving such a painful thing
Normally?
Is loneliness such a lonely beast
Usually?

Is air this hard to breathe
Normally?
Is it this difficult to see
Usually?

Does the itch burn like hellfire
Normally?
Does the itch attack the mind
Usually?

Is the itch a chronic condition
Normally?
This is unbearable
Help me.

The words are stretched
Over a long, nasal pitch.
Eyes swimming in tears
At the ready to stream down.

Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme...

But it is not given
And the flood is unleashed
The mouth stretches wide
To release another cry
And it is again pondered
When sleep will be gotten this night

MINE!

But it is not
Not that it matters
As the snot has already begun to flow
Just as profusely as the tears

Why a toddler?
What was I thinking?
It seems she'll never
Ever stop whining

I forget sometimes, why
I'd stopped caring what you do
Now we talk again (we lie)
And I seriously ******* hate you

You make me a blubbering mess
Of vulnerability and anxiety
And under any amount of duress
I'll admit my hatred and push you from me

You grate on my nerves with your easy smile
So confident whilst I am without esteem
The very sight of you chokes me on my own bile
I wish to rend your flesh from your bones as you scream

I hate you
Abhor you
Despise you
Loathe you

And no matter how attractive
You used to be to me
Your personality is just ugly enough
For me to hate you with glee

I could sing a love song
And never mention a name
And when I peruse through my mind
There's never a single face

I'm all plurals and dreams
Of perfect unity
Between one, two
Between four and me

I could sing a love song
I could sing them a sonnet
I could serenade them
I could make them want it

I could sing a vision of a perfect home
I could sing of two point five children
That understand our bond
I could sing a love song.

But I'm ever-cynical, I know who I am
When I think of love, I'm not in the plan
I'm ever-realistic, I know my face
I could sing a love song but it'd never take.

Should they next ask
"How
Can I help"
I may say
"Stop leaving marks on me
And I'll stop
Marking
Myself."

"Are you getting better?"
"Why are you sad?"
"Do you still cut."
"How do you feel?"

"Worse."
I'm getting worse.
I'm not sad, I'm distraught.
I don't cut, I hack.
I feel worse.

"I'm not actively suicidal."
"I don't want to hurt anyone."
"I'm feel okay."
"I feel nothing."

Worse.
The thoughts have gotten worse.
I care less because I want more.
I feel like I'm drowning. Constantly.
Apathy is so much worse.
So much worse than emotion.

I don't want to be here.
I don't want to wake up.
I don't want to breathe.
I don't want to see.
I don't want to hear.
I don't want to smell.
I don't want to eat.
I don't want to think.

Everything's so much better
So why am I so much worse?

My mother has regained her maiden name
And there's no father to beat me up
And tell me how worthless I am.
My sister has come to terms with her sexuality
And there's no serious vitriol between us
For me to brood and cry about;
She hasn't hit me in years.
My family has been cut off from me
And there's no disappointed looks
For me to escape from.
My best friend is trying to rekindle what we had
And there's no faux pas or jibes
For me to be hurt over.
My mother is in the process of buying a house
So there'll be no panic attacks living in close range
To strangers in an apartment.
My senior year begins soon
And there'll be no adult to command me soon
While I'm holed up somewhere for college.
I've weeded the fake friends out
So there's no person whispering hatred behind me
And I won't run myself thin trying to please them.

So why am I worse?
I have everything in the world one could ask for.
I may not be rich,or even well-off
But I have an IPad and a phone
And several gaming systems.
There's food in the house and clean water.
I have a bed to sleep on and a roof over my head.
I have an Internet connection that's reliable.
I have usage of all my limbs and
I have music to listen to constantly.

So why am I worse?
I have nothing to complain or whine about.
I have nothing to cry and scream over.
I am living a life some others would envy.
Yet, here I am writing self-centered, pitiful poetry
And considering suicide.

I disgust myself, in this aspect.
I woke up this morning with life I'm not sure I want
And someone, somewhere, would value it more.
I bemoan my appearance and obsess over my weight
But I am symmetrical and healthy.
I have nothing to justify my pity-parties.

I don't have the right to be worse than I was.
See, no, I may not prosecute someone for being happy
When there are others who are happier
But I will prosecute myself for being sad
When there are others who have it worse.
Because I should be grateful for all I have.
I should smile everyday for waking up.
I should hold my life in high regard.

But I do not.

There's no rhyme or reason to this long winded spiel.
I do not expect or care if it's read.
I believe, in a way, this is part one of several
Of a letter to my mother, sister, and friends
As an explanation. As compensation.
I used to say I wanted to die, but I'd never do it.
Because I know me, and 'me' is a coward,
Terrified of her own shadow.
But now I see myself slipping and this is...
This is the best justification I have:

I am doing worse. Though I have no right to be. I wake up in the morning listless. I wake up and nothing seems better. I wake up, sometimes, gasping and scared from nightmares. I wake up, sometimes, missing my father. I wake up without motivation. And I go about my day without ambition. Writing no longer brings me pleasure. Nor reading. Nor running. Nor speaking. Nor silence. Nor music. Nor singing. Nor gaming. Nor thinking. Nor pottery. Nor poetry. Nor people. Nor solitude. Nor anything, really. I wake up searching for something. I do not know what. And I go about my day understanding that I have not, did not, and will not find it. I wake up lonely. I wake up starved for comfort and a listening ear. And by the time I've swung my legs out of bed, I am numb and I feel nothing at all. It is sweet agony. I am engulfed by my own mind and I rip myself apart daily. I never remember which piece goes where. I go through my days like this; breathing, alive, but not living. I am tired. I am sorry, because I know what I promised, but I am tired.

-Nadia (aka. Chaus)

They walked loudly through the forest
Never questioning from where they came
Never wondering of where they would go
And the forest was pristine and bustling with life
And the universe was silent.

They hungered once and grew weapons to sate them
Never remembering what the forest was
Never thinking of what they would make it
And the forest was red and quiet and furious
And the universe was silent.

They shivered in the rain and set the trees alight for heat
Never caring for the creamated land and animals
Never seeing the barren gounds they left behind
And the forest was empty and dead
And the universe was silent.

They starved and ripped at each other until they were dead
Never ceasing even when the pain was unbearable
Never beginning to see sense or regain their logic
And the forest was no longer a forest and they were no more
And the universe was silent.

But I want to help you
Even though
We're hundreds of miles
Apart.
You always post
Those little things
That reveal how much
You're hurting.
And I wish I could help.
I wish I could say,
"Text me, I won't judge you"
Or somehow become your friend
And I suppose I'm writing this
Hoping that you'll see it
And think, "that girl will help.
I'll confide in her."

Who am I fooling?
Some things just don't happen
You'd never trust a stranger
And I can't blame you
But even though I know
Just how insane and inane this wish is
If you'd only ask
I'd respond and do my best
To give you a bit of the life you deserve

I don't trust you with it
I want to rip the infested pieces of you away from it
Scourge you out from every nook and cranny
Rip the oldest remnant of you from the deepest crag in it
And place you in a thick glass jar

I want to observe you from every angle and know you inside out
And only then will I know if I'd prefer to wrap you up
Or tear you down
But whichever I chose I would never, never let you out

I would keep you from it but know you both so well
Not even your mother could boast to know more
I would rend you from each other and stitch you back together
And bind you both to me that way my mind screams at me to do

But

First I must reach out and you must grasp my hand
I would love to hear all about you
If you'd open up and let me see who you are
I will accept every filthy and clean part of you
All I require is your every thought
Every breath
Every heartbeat
I ask so little of you
You ask so much of me

You ask me to be a friend in the sense
That you are not entirely unequivocally mine
I refuse
You ask me to be a confidant as though I am not aware of who needs to hear the words you will say
I refuse
You ask me to believe you because you are honest
As though I don't know who you were and are
I refuse
You ask me to care to listen to hear you and I can do all that and more but you have done nothing for me

Slit your throat for me.
Show me you truly need only me to care
Reach down into your chest and present your heart to me
Open your skull and give me your brain
Prove that you trust me enough to check its every secret
Empty out your arteries for me. Show me you trust I'll put you back together
Give me your organs and know that I'll hold you to life

I will accept then
I will listen then
I will care then
You've no clue the extent to which I love those who give me all of them
I will love until heaven and hell and earth and the universe itself wither away
Eternally
Unwaveringly
If I have all of you
You will have me.

I've never believed you could absorb someone's energy
But I'd like to try it with you.
Open a vein, slit an artery
Drink you blood, your essence, through.

I want to crack your skull, delicately, thinly
See the wonders that brain of yours hides
I want to open your chest, rip your ribs apart
And study the workings of your insides.

I'm a fair fighter
I fight to the death
I throw the carcasses
Down on my left
I always allow
My enemy to regroup
Then I defeat them
And collect my coup
They regroup slowly
I beat them fast
It's an epic battle
That never seems to last
More than a minute
For those who are tough
But there never a time
When they say enough's enough
So I ready myself
Flex my abs
Crook my finger
And pick the scab

I'd hand you the ******* world
But you're satisfied with the ground at your feet
I'd give you every atom on this earth
And the moon as a summer retreat.

Why the hell are you accepting the love
That's so far below what you deserve?
Why the hell are you throwing around trust
Like you can't fathom how much you're worth?

I'd hand you the ******* world
I'd love you beyond the simplicity of lust
I'd hand you the ******* world
Yet and still, is that not enough?

You're worth more than them, darling
You're far past the concept of price
You're engraved in the songs I sing
Take the world I give you, it's your right.

Sitting on my own but not necessarily alone
My mind roams and eats me down to blood and bones.
With eyes watery and wet though no tears have fallen yet
I set my jaw against the first tinglings of regret.

If I am hurting it will fade, without assistance from a blade
Box the guilt carefully away and place it back from where it came.
If I am unsteady I will find balance without a plea
And rely on no one but myself to help right me.

Sitting with memories and regrets and possibilities
Sitting with the jealousy and shame and the whole of me.
Making temporary peace with the little things if only to sleep
In full awareness that they still creep where my thoughts run deep.

Ana and Mia are my best friends
Down goes the food, then back up again
"Don't eat it, doll, you must be thin"
"Well, now that you have, regurgitate it."

It's delicious on the tip of my tongue
Then bitter like guilt the second I'm done
It's heavy in my stomach and I can't move
Until I lean over the toilet and purge the food.

Ana and Mia are my best friends
They'll stick with this fat girl till the end.
Ana and Mia are my diet plan
My throat is burning but at least I'll be thin.

Darling, darling
May I hold you in my arms?
And rock you until
You've cried out every injustice
Every done to you?

Darling, darling
Might I endear myself to you?
Until your very instinct is to look to me
For the strength you need
To win every battle?

Darling, darling
Shall I be your diamond sheild?
Impervious to damage
In my complete conviction
To protect you from harm?

                                                                                    But you don't see me, do you?
I am not an option for you.
                                                                                    I won't call you darling any longer.
I am not to be forgotten.

You may never turn around to see me
And I, darl-, I may never care again.

I'll never admit it
If only to spare my own
But somedays I run a knife across my wrist
When I'm alone.
I never break the skin
There's not a drop of blood
But I'm considering, thinking, 'maybe'
And that's normally enough.

But at the bottom of the barrel-
Where the sludge of Earth runs thick
Where I crafted my essence
Where I sometimes hit-
I don't want the knife
And I don't want a gun
I don't want a rope
I don't want to run.

I want to fall asleep.

I want to fall asleep
And simply fade away
And the world would never know me
That I'd gone or that I'd came.
I'd want to leave with a whisper
In the middle of a desert
Where no one is listening
So no one hears.

I'd like to fall asleep
And let it all end there.
There'd be no 'beyond life'
The be nothing, everywhere.
I'd like to simply fade away
As though I never eisted at all
I'd like to forget life and it, me
Like a friend I never called.