I'm a little dysfunctional.
Don't ya know?
If ya push me it might be bad.
Get a little emotional.
Don't ya know?
Fool around and make me **Mad.

I sit, stay still, and let you yell at me.
But it needs to stop, not later. Now.
Because of you I am changing
Not for the better.
I'm becoming something rather than myself.
I'm becoming what you are causing.
I'm becoming You
A **Monster...

You degrade me, push me down, and hurt me.
But yet I would take on a army for you.

You make me cry, you make my soul sting, my heart clench up.
But yet I would take a bullet for you.

You notice my scars, then tell me to smile. But all you do, it's impossible for me to smile.
I etch some more into my arm, afraid of disappointing you, the one who caused these wounds.

"Don't yell." I proclaim. I may not be able to smile. But my flesh can.

Oh life, how you daze me.
Taking sharp turns, when I'm not buckled.
Accelerating as soon as I felt comfortable.
Giving me a bad hand, in the time of need.
Where are you taking me now?
Of course you don't tell. So I only wait, holding my breath as we begin onto our adventure.
please be gentle.

It's a long way home
At the end of the road
I'll be pavin' my own way
To the top I'll be here to stay
So take my name
Remember this face
Keep the change and have a nice day
And live for the moment not by the past
Homie live each day like it's your last

I am a male, a 16 year old male.
Who(LIKE others.) has a period. No I don't shoot blood from my body.
But I get pissy, I get angry, I get hungry, I get sad, and I get lonely.
The only thing I need is for those who won't help and tease me.
To ***** off.
And let me be myself.
All men have a period, some call it Meriod.
But don't use it lightly. We get ****** too.

Dear reader, if you or someone you know is in a troublesome spot. Pass this along. For it is sure to be a helpful read.
You there! Yes you. I know not but your face, nor your story. But I know you feel less than yourself. And that's not ok. Some its just the blues. Down in the dumps.
But someone else could be seconds away from leaving this earth. And not coming back. I don't want that. I don't know who you are, but I would sure love too. I would love to know everything about you. Anyone would. And I know I am one person. But one conversation could help, it could keep you occupied. You could drop the pills, the gun, untie the rope. Step away from the edge, Take the bag off your head. Drop the blade. It could save you, I could help, Anyone could. We are all here for a purpose. Though I can't tell you how to fix what is wrong. I can give you the spark you need, the spark to re-light the flame that is dying inside you. And out burst a giant, beautiful soul full of joy and passion, ready to fight the sadness head on, ready to kick its **** and let happiness reign over you.
I understand the sadness. I'm sad, I always am. But knowing I helped someone feel better. is the best thing ever. It's the best drug you'll ever try. The euphoria you get from helping someone. It's an amazing thing. I love every person on this earth from the bottom of my heart. I love you all, whether you do something bad or you're a nobody. You all are my friends. And I am not leaving. So get used to my constant smile.

Every human walks around with a certain kind of sadness.
They may not wear it on their sleeves.
But it's there if you look **deep.

"NOW this is the law of the jungle, as old and as true as the sky,
And the wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the wolf that shall break it must die.

As the creeper that girdles the tree trunk, the law runneth forward and back;
For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.

Wash daily from nose tip to tail tip; drink deeply, but never too deep;
And remember the night is for hunting and forget not the day is for sleep.

The jackal may follow the tiger, but, cub, when thy whiskers are grown,
Remember the wolf is a hunter—go forth and get food of thy own.

Keep peace with the lords of the jungle, the tiger, the panther, the bear;
And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the boar in his lair.

When pack meets with pack in the jungle, and neither will go from the trail,
Lie down till the leaders have spoken; it may be fair words shall prevail.

When ye fight with a wolf of the pack ye must fight him alone and afar,
Lest others take part in the quarrel and the pack is diminished by war.

Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or the waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for the wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a *** to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

As the dusk of the night fades and splits at the light of dawn, the ferry crept away before it was sought upon by those who don't have passage. By those who aren't merely ready for this type of adventure, only you and I my friend, so I hope you did pack your things, and I hope you don't plan on turning back anytime soon.
For this journey will last a life time. And we haven't a second to waste on the first part of this treacherous journey. I hope you packed your courage with you as well.

From age one to ten.
You thrived in my life.
Then you moved out of town.
Cut away from me, with a knife.
To Oklahoma, then down South.
14 years of age. I don't mutter your name.
From my mouth.
We rarely speak.
But you tie yourself with my troubles.
Deal with your own life.
Deal with your wife, your 'double.'
I love you, I do.
You say the same, but is it true?
You don't even say MY name.
But when I forget yours.
I am the one to blame.
A few years ahead.
Now 16.
A lot going through my mind.
Then you call me, with your drama.
And your *******.
Wasting MY time?
I didn't know.
You even realized I was alive.
You say you still love me.
But that's just a white lie.
Daddy.

Attention, this is not a poem, but a helpful guide for those who cut.
I am not going to tell you how 'bad' you are. Or why cutting is wrong.
I cut, I understand, I bleed, I hurt, I feel.
But; take a pen, or sharpie, anything that won't hurt to use, and just doodle, or write, or sketch, on your arm, where you wanna cut, it helps so much.

( Hope this helps, it's my arm.)
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/400257485608340220/

I lay in bed, and suddenly, a pain, from my toes to my head.
It shoots through my body, jolting me and making me feel weird, thoughts run through my head as I search. Only to find an arrow in my knee. Cupid, **** you, you little flying heathen. You got me, but I don't wanna celebrate, who do I love? No one in this world can love a person like me, no one loves scars, cupid.
Leave me alone, and tell me when Valentines day passes.

See what I do?
I push through.
And I **Smile.

So now I cut these
loveless wrists,
My head sure
hurts today.
I'll take another
twenty pills and
it'll All
Go.
*Away.

High.
On the ledge.
Millions of feet below.
the soft looking pavement.
For my blood to surely flow.
I step off the ledge.
And fall really fast.
I recap my life.
Recap my past.
I hold my breath.
as if I am about to dive.
But really any sane person knows
You don't survive a fall this High.
As I keep falling.
I began to tear.
Thinking about my family.
My mother...
Oh Dear...
I wish there was another way.
But i'm falling to fast.
So I continue to hold my air.
And remember my past.
Nearing the ground.
A smile; formed on my face.
"Soon..." I say to myself.
I won't be in this place.
Inches away.
Time running slow.
The ground looks.
So
Ready
To release my soul.
Impact is quick.
Painless at that.
I gasp and bolt from my bed.
A pain in my back.
It was a dream.
Why won't you
Look at that.
I dreamed about Death.
About sweet release.
And my brain toyed with me.
Gave me a tease.
Glad I suppose.
That I didn't die.
From that big ole fall.
From that *******
High.

We feel a little pity, but don't empathize.

Harm is something we cause on a daily basis.
We all are aware. But no one is aware of the pain that follows.

Advice is easy to give, but it can be wrong or harmful. You are the expert on you. The best thing someone can do is help you figure out the path that makes the most sense to you.

My eyes are red as I cry.
My face is red, you hit me but you love me.
My nose, it pours Red
It turns my gray shirt into a Red mess.
My wrist, it's red...
My cuts.
Are red, my blood is red.
I bleed for you.
I bleed.
*Red

I lay; motionless and sad in my bed.
A giant wave of dreams and thoughts and ideas and plots wash over. Hell.
I'm thinking of every possible thing I could.
But as I push closer. And closer. And closer, on the edge of sleep. I think of you.
The memories I had.
The feelings I still have.
And how you said I was the worst of the worst.
And you didn't even realize your words hurt.
until my scars began to show. And now you're afraid of me.
Good; fear what you don't understand....

Is suicide an answer?
Is escaping the right thing to do?
Is answering life with suicide the right answer?

We're all different, in every way, not even twins

I'd give you my Heart.
And let you just hold it.
I'd give you my Soul.
But I already **Sold it.