I carry a storm,
In the pocket of my shirt.
A restless demon,
Clawing.
Ripping.
Shredding.
My body apart,
From the inside out.
Shattering bones,
Through every breath.
The taste of blood,
Of acid,
Is all I know.
Thunder in my mind,
And voices,
Is all that bombards,
My brain.
My hallucinations.
Develop,
I was told I'm faking,
But I'm not fine.
The demos echo,
They yell,
In that shrill voice,
I know all too well.
These echos send,
Alarms like a bell.
My heart is shattered glass,
Like a mirror,
Laying on the floor.
Cutting deeper,
With each bolt,
That sends waves into my body.
I wear this weight.
Like a second skin.
That’s underneath,
Hiding what’s within.
I struggle—I fight everyday.
What you don’t see,
Is what goes on,
Day to day.
The vomiting.
The pain.
The nausea.
The shame.
The anemia.
The dizziness.
The fighting for life,
It’s a lot of chores.
To stay alive— is a battle,
My body forces me to ride,
Like a roller coaster.
This fight in my pocket,
Is a storm brewing out of control
Who knows?
When my body,
Will hit a pole.
This storm,
Is making me lose myself,
More.

Why do I cry?
Why do I feel sad?
Why do I feel worthless?
Why do I feel bad?

Why do I feel like,
I’ll never be enough?
Why do I feel,
I’ll never be tough?

Why do I think…
I’m brave enough?
Why do I think,
I can stand up,
For what’s right?
Why do I struggle,
With all the,
Simple things in life?

Why do I hate,
The thought,
Of being alone?
Why do I feel,
Like I’m stuck in a black hole?

Why do I fight back?
Why do I lie?
Why didn’t I protect myself…
That day i almost died?

All these “whys” inside my head.
All these questions,
Not answered.
Just left on “read”
Taking up space inside my brain.
Rent free,
Causing so much pain.

I still ask,
“Why.”

Pride month.
Flags of all kind,
Hoping to find someone else,
Who wears there flag proud.
As I only have 2 friends,
Who I know,
That share there story and beliefs,
Proud.
I want to be that person too.
So I’m writing this to talk.
That it’s okay to speak up,
It’s ok to be yourself.
You don’t have to hide,
And be someone else.
Your flag.
Your beliefs.
Are you,
Your own person.
So let yourself shine.
Let yourself,
Love,
Cry,
Laugh,
Get mad,
Get upset,
Because it’s okay,
And I’ll always be here to talk.
I’ll always be by your side,
Just…
Let yourself,
have pride.

That day.
That life.
That pastime.
That fright.
When I was left,
Behind that stair,
Crying.
No one else knew I was there.
That blood.
Those bruises.
That pain,
I’ve tried to fight through it.
But the weight,
That it holds.
That the fact,
No one even knew.
Those scars.
That blood.
Dripping down my face,
Into my eyes,
Down my throat,
Blood pooling at my feet.
Sitting there,
in time of need.
That day.
That led,
To fighting,
For life.
Those flashbacks,  
Of when they pulled me into that hallway.
School.
Crime.
Turned on there “other” face,
And destroyed my hope,
That the world can be great.
That blood.
Will forever,
Remain in my memory.
That pain I felt will never be gone,
The pain that day.
That nobody noticed or saw.
That day,
Was what hurt me the most.
That day.

Thorns.
Blood.
Scars.
Pain.

Bullying.
Rumors.
Love.
Hate.

Cries.
Begging.
Pleas,
For help.

No one is listening,
No way out.
Thorns stab,
Like knifes to skin.

How will I escape?
When I’m stuck in a body I don’t want…
With health issues,
I can’t take care of.
My body giving up on me,
And I Know I’m failing within.

Spreading pain.
Of those words,
That blood,
That day.
Cold tile floor.
Lies.
Thorns stabbed me then,
left an imprint on my soul.

So know I live my life,
Stuck in a web of pain,
Being punctured with thorns.

My stomach is a coffin,
Holding each meal.
Waiting to explode out of the casket,
Rejecting what my body needs the most.
My nausea is the funeral,
Coming like waves.
On a stormy day.
Locking me in for hours.
No escape.
My pain is the graveyard.
Bones and ghosts haunt my past
And hurt my future.
They yell and mock,
No matter what they talk.
My brain— the tears,
Running down my face like rain,
As my body feels like a knife plunging into me.
Late nights, and early mornings of shooting, stabbing pain
That won't give up for a second.
No avail.
I don't want to live with this pain,
This nausea,
The throwing up.
My demon mocks, “It got ya.”
The dizzy, and headaches,
The late nights, and early mornings,
The nightmares and flashbacks,
All the times I felt faint,
The time I fainted—
I don't want to live like this.
I need help to find a way.
Whether it's meds, appointments, or therapy,
As long as no one blames it all on something
Completely out of order.
I'm running into a border—
A wall,
A blockage.
I fall.
I trip.
I get shoved.
Will I fit in?
Into this place?
Will I make stupid mistakes?
Will I be betrayed?
Pain is something I don't take lightly.
I used to keep it hidden,
I used to use a mask.
But now that I'm open about it,
People think I'm attention-seeking
When I'm just trying to communicate,
When I don't know exactly how yet.
Sure—I've told lies,
I've made a disguise.
I'm trying to change.
I have made a mistake.
I'm human, I do that sometimes.
I'm willing to take responsibility for my actions.
I just need someone to listen.
Because I'm sick of living in a black hole,
Feeling like a knife is plunging into my stomach with each cramp,
Each sting.
The nausea is the other thing it brings.
I just need someone to listen.
And I need help with many things.
So many…
Like pain.

Another year goes by,
Another year awaits.
What will each year be?
Well..I can’t stop thinking—
About all my mistakes.
All the times I lied,
I didn’t eat.
All the times,
I said I did my homework,
But I just procrastinated-
Accepted I’d never be good enough,
Accepted defeat.
I tried to hide myself within a disguise,
But how long will this last?
I guess I’ll have to wait,
As I have no choice.
Year after year,
Will keep going by.