I woke up today,
while the sun was at its peak.

While the blue sky was
luminous and vast, and

While the air was unconfined and hot.

I woke up to a heart, thumping and thudding
a rhythm complemented by the

Singing and swaying of the evergreens
standing ever so gracefully and poise.

I woke up breathing in a sweet air that urged to coat my lungs,
racing to encompass all that I am.

Waking up today-
was beautiful and romantic,
a love letter to my being.

It was wanted,
and it gave me the courage to long for more tomorrows.

I made a promise to God that I would not react this way.
I promised Him that I would be strong and maintain a straight face..
Did He know that I was lying?
Could He tell that underneath my sincere apology that I would rather give up than to keep trying?
Because-
I wasn't sincere.
I still had the emptiness clawing at my head- screaming at me, pleading to my heart that I wanted to be dead.
But, that is not what I said.
I promised God that, in the end, I would remember what He taught me.
I would put Him first because He would never leave...
I knew that I was lying.
Did He?
I would rather give up than to force myself to keep trying.

God
Why me.
I'm so hurt
I'm so tired.
I've asked for death
Multiple times.
Only to be ignored.
I'm too tired to keep going.
And my brain is to heavy.
I need some time to close my eyes
And to feel the silence that doesn't surround me.
I need this to end.
God, I can't do this any more.
My heart doesn't beat
My lungs don't breathe-
My eyes don't see
And there is nothing left here for me.

When I look into her eyes, I see everything I have always wanted to be.
I see a girl who is admired and loved by all who happen to be in her presence.
She happens to be a girl who knows what she wants and gets what she pleases without having to ask.

How can I measure up to this girl when everything I am is plain and simple.
How can we be in the same room when her features shine a light on everything that I do not have.

I can not love myself when I have learned that I am worth nothing compared to her.
She knows that, and I do too.

They only call me pretty when I'm with her anyway, so what do I do when I'm alone?
Nothing but pray that I have the courage to change everything I am as time goes on.

As I sit here, staring at the lunch I had an hour ago, I can't help but to feel disgusted.
As hard as I try to ignore it, the saliva dripping onto my feet makes its way into my consciousness, reminding me of how low I am.
I constantly avoid looking at my hands, for seeing what I have done makes me want to despise myself even more than I already do.
The dull throbbing at the base of my neck coming from this compromising position almost makes me want to sit up straight and put an end to this activity; however, I know that I don't want to stop, not yet.
I have so much more I know I can let go

He's gone..
The muse to all of my most precious work is gone. And that is pain.

Food. What is food?
Is it something everyone needs to survive? Is it the thing that takes forever to make and has even less time time to enjoy?
Is it the beautiful plants that grow in the right season that produces so much pride that they deserve an instagram post?
Or is the thing that many people will never have the money to see?
For me, it is the center of everyday. It is the one thing that I know dictates my entire life. It is the one thing I wish I could forget and the one thing I wish I could live without.
It is the thing that forces me to do math, and it is the thing that keeps me from knowing any sort of satisfaction.
It is the thing that makes me wish I were someone else, anyone else.
It is the thing that I spend hours thinking about, measuring, classifying, and the one thing that I can never seem to get correct. It is also the thing that makes me cry at night. It makes me feel alone.
It is the thing that causes me to spend every day working out even when I don't want to, and it has made me be friends with a scale that isn't very friendly.
It is a bully, a cruel "ex" friend that wishes I were never born and it is a fighter that knows how to pack a heavy punch.
For me, it has not been very kind. It has been the thing that controls who I am.
It is THE thing, and sadly, it is everything.

I crave to be gazed at during sunrise
with fingers tracing the edges of my frame.
Brown eyes should reflect the yearning present in mine
and be colored with the eagerness of being forever close.
The peonise outside of our window would sway in the calm breeze
that enclosed our home, brushing against each brick.
We would bask in the warmth of our sheets
and inhale the air that was contaminated with each song of love that we breathed.
There would only be you and I, eternally bathing in the scent of being in love.

I wake up and see you.
I go to sleep. And see you.
I pick up my phone and see you.

I see - salty water marks on my pillows,
a heaving chest expanding and contracting with a tremble, and
I see a gray haze covering the surfaces I no longer wish to touch.
I see somber flowers and I see candles that struggle to give off light even in the dullest of days.

I see until the pain creeps back in and reclaims my clear eyes once again.

Gazing upon his honey comb skin made my eyes glisten, yearning to discover the crevices in which peaked out from under his short sleeves. The bright and sunny days were the best. The weight of the world that seemed to weigh my shoulders down on any given day suddenly disappeared when the gleaming green eyed boy threw me a grin with his perfect milky teeth and peachy lips. Oh my...
When he pulled his full peachy lips apart to expose my favorite smile, my irritated bones started to know their purpose. They stood strong and gave me the support that I needed to be able to take in every detail of him so that my memories would ring clear and precise. The sky was bleak when my personal sunshine went away for the night taking its luminescent high with it leaving a piercing empty darkness in its stead.

A five by eight enclosure is too quiet and dainty, perfect for thinking. Awful just awful.

Fiberglass is too cold to be cozy and air doesn't circulate better when standing up.

White water doesn't have a grip when it falls at a rapid speed and the drops continue to fall a victim to gravity without regard.

Sitting there, skin to the cold cold bottom feels so lonely, sending emptiness back and forth and up only to send itself back down to it's home. It's honestly dreadful..

There's nothing to distract from the burning.. No white noise to quiet the mental rumblings..

Eyes closed, breath stalled, fingers trembling, chilling thoughts at bay, finally engulfed.

I took a bath today.

I want to know what it feels like to wake up pretty.
To not have to line my lids with eyeliner just to face the day.
To be carefree and twirl through the streets with a smile on my face.
To wink at strangers whose eyes gaze upon my body and blush because all the boys stare.
To have a soft face and to have flowing hair.
To not have beauty marks on my face and to not have rough skin.
I want to know what it feels like to close my eyes and feel the sun caressing my skin making me glow like the moon.
To be content..
To feel like a flower dancing through the grass, to be special and not put last.
I want to know how it feels to love myself for everything that I am. To wake up and like what I see looking back at me when I'm brushing my teeth.
I want to know.
I want to feel tied to the earth, bound by people who admire me.
I want to be one of those girls who are unforgettable, who stop breaths and dazzle eyes.
I want to fall in love with me and wake up pretty.

Who is this girl wearing my clothes? Who was this girl lying in my bed just a second ago? Surely she isn't the same girl who enjoys sneaking out to study the stars on a warm summer night, so what was she doing here? Who is this girl, walking in my ratty Vans?
Her eyes drooped from late nights of over thinking, making her age about ten years.
Look at her, she stood as if her legs would give out at any moment.  
Our eyes met for a fraction of a second before she looked away from embarrassment. She shouldn't be embarrassed.. She just needed a good nights rest and a nice meal for sure..  As I reached out to touch the ghostly girl, to let her know that everything was okay, my hands slid down the slick, cold glass that made up my dresser's mirror.
A morning routine.

as i sit in a place of mental darkness
I force my hands to raise a weapon.
A weapon raised with a trembling arm,

I try to be steady, to be accurate and aim.

My arms wreak of guilt ridden lines dripping with a burning sensation.

But my pain hasn't been taken away.

This weather brings out the worst in you, all the pain and misery came from hibernation.
The gold that lasted in yours eyes and that I've grown to love, disappeared right along with the sun's warmth.
Something died my love, something is dead indeed.

This is it..
No more gasping for air no more reaching out the water.
No more.
I am alone.
All of my stars that dazzled for me night and day have dimmed and disappeared.
But I don't have any more hope.
All of your gazes terrify me
All of your comments are horrid.
And here, I stand frozen in place
Dripping in self apathy because
I am useless. So,
This is it.
No more gasping for air
No more reaching out the water
No more.. I am alone.
Anger swells up in my hands
It tingles on the tips of my fingers
And sends vibrations up my arm.
It's last destination... My heart.
My cold, black heart.
Not black from lack of caring.
No, I cared far too much
And you all didn't care for me enough.
Maybe that's how I ended up here.
So this is it.
No more gasping for air.
No more reaching out the water.
No more.
I am alone.

Months go by since I saw you last,
As the memories fade.
You gave me a kiss that I thought about for days, but now I no longer can see the image.
It's been months since you last made my heart race, gave me butterflies, or said something so sweet I questioned was it really you.
It's been months since I went to sleep with you on my mind, dreaming about every touch from you and every conversation.
It has been months, months without my love, my happiness, my world...
It was months ago when you left... yet it feels like it was just yesterday.

You killed me with your words, each one happened to shoot my spirits down.
Those "I love you's" bled out from line to line. What is pain? What is agony? Where are you to take those feelings away?
Black and blue lips spoke in harmony between us two. Bless it be the calling upon our wretched souls.
Don't speak, don't shoot- I surrender my love. Please take it away, lock it in a cage.
Tame this beast that we call love.

Broken and battered from the battle field of a lonely soul, emerged a yellow bud.
Beaten to death, it cried out- please.
Please tell me I'm pretty.
Please tell me you love me.
Please be here when I need you..
Grow on your own, bud. Stand on your own.
Grab hold of what's yours and hold it tight.
Dance little bud.
Dance with passion.
Were you broken and battered?
Little yellow bud, budded ah'see.
Look, little yellow bud is gone. Oh,
But here comes a shiny golden flower.

I'm a fool for brown eyes and sugar plump lips,
The way your nose makes its shape makes my stomach do flips.

I'm a sucker for your blackish hair and your silhouette in the window when you pass by. And if I said I didn't fall for you, I'd be a lie.

I fell for everything you stood for, honey. And here I am crouched with the shock of you in my throat fighting to close up.

I need my drug. I need you now to help me through this recession, to **** the fear of my constant loneliness, give me the strength to keep going because that's what you do best.

Her little sleepy eyes drooped into their hallowed holes fighting the yawn her quivering lips began to make.

Her pale pink cheeks glowed in the lamp light on her mahogany desk, which she spent most of her time writing her life.

As she licked the taste of the last of her favorite ***** off her white lips, and glanced at the clock, her pen ceased their work and the end of a poems journey began.

Sitting here with my anxiety around my neck, I play my favorite song again again until I start to question the pronunciation of the.
I don't cry, no the tears are stopped short by my unwillingness to accept reality, yet reality is stopped short by me willingly living in a fantasy world.
The adults think I am overreacting, but they don't understand how crippling everything is when even waking up is struggle.
I need more time.. Time to stop the shaking. Time to find my fake smile.. Time to remember my four lettered lie..

Oh yeah, here it is, yes. I am fine.

When he walked through those double doors, my breath caught in my throat and chest ceased to lift off of my ribcage.

When he walked through those double doors, my eyes were in shock for they could not believe..

When he walked in through those double doors into the unforeseen future, shaking my insides with each step he took, my life suddenly seemed so small and empty.

My life, always simple and safe now showed its dull memories. I was never a woman of change and challenge, always playing it safe! But now, here we are with danger placed right in front of me and I all but leaped into its arms.

I want this risk, this messy thing pulled into my life and with all the red tape pulled off!

I want to be happy, happy with him. I need this disaster to take a rollercoaster ride with me for a little while.

I want crazy and weird and a little fun, but I want it with him.

He makes me excited and anxious, but I like it. I like him.

My life needs him.

He said, let's go, here are your wings, come with me.
Hey, I am free, free from distress and sadness, hey I am free!
My family, do not cry, do not weep nor be upset, I am here with God, please do not fret.
You'll miss me and I already miss you, yet I've left only for a little while. I will see you again here in my new home, Heaven is big enough for all of us, child.

Hey, old flame! There you burn once again,
Some wood in my fireplace and a cigar lit, burning red and sparking orange.
My blood runs with new excitement for maybe now there stands a chance.

The doctors checked my smile that rumbled with contentment for the months passed, joy didn't last, and my hands shook so bad, a pen couldn't be held.

You and I, wood and gold, sent shivers through my mind, a reoccurring fantasy I never dreamed to forget. You were always mine from the beginning, baby, your fire just had to be lit.

Hatred fills up my eyes with tears, only now did the world lift it's mask to show it's ugly face.
A time of joy and appraise ruined by the cruel and inhuman monsters that roam the ground.
A dawn of new day overtaken by darkness.
Since when did happiness only apply to one kind?
Tell me when did others lives come more involved than your own?
My chest sunken and head lowered for I am filled with shame for my religion.
When did The Judge become my fellow people?
This land is one of law and equal opportunity yet religious views are forced upon all.
When did the love of my people dissipate into this angry vial monster mobbing precious souls of their joy?
Tell me how one deserves to be loved more than anyone else.
Tell me how one love is the only kind of love.
Tell me how can one sit and speak Hell upon another because they chose happiness?
Is it jealously? Envy?
Tell me why

The last time my eyes laid upon the greens and browns of the dinner table, my hands gripped your rough knuckles underneath the table's wood.
As you partook in the role of swallowing your mashed potatoes, my eyes lingered on your throat, catching the way the tiny hairs moved up and down at the grooves of your neck.
And In the same moment your free hand wiped your mouth, erasing any evidence ravishing spaghetti sauce, making every surface of those pink lips visible, the thought of them on mine cursed through my head. Yet now I know what I am thankful for this thanksgiving.
Only now did you look up to meet my gaze traveling your neck; however, your eyes read the same as mine, cultivating desire. Desire and want screamed from the blue of your eyes. Only now did the decision to have thanksgiving by ourselves make sense. Was it five seconds ago? Ten minutes? An hour since there was a full meal sitting on the table that now held our intertwined bodies.
Was it five seconds? Ten minutes? An hour since I wore a skinny black dress that was now in pieces on the floor.
Was it five seconds? Ten minutes? An hour since I appraised the tie you wore with your suit that was now torn into five parts by my impatient little hands.
It indeed had been to long since your body was one with my own, forgetting the beat of the world but with a rhythm of our own.

Young love thrives on the lies literature tells, the boat rides and the promise of an ending that includes wedding bells.

My love died on the same twinkle of star that also lit my heart. We were doomed before our troublesome start.

So let me tell you the truth, you loved me and I loved you. But at the same time your tongue spit these words out into the bitter air, spiders and ghouls were placed there.

By the time you cut the sanity out of what was yours and mine; tore up the memories that kept me fine; and set fire to everything you could find, I was already at bay with thoughts of  mine.

I clipped at my hair because “it looks so pretty long." And I curse through the lyrics to your favorite song.

I bit off my nails because “your nails are so pretty when you paint them" but not bare according to you. Your new girl with the french tips prove true.

I smoked and I drank and I threw up whiskey, I passed out till I could no longer pass out anymore and I put on those jeans you once wore, and I chocked on a giggle because of that cute dent I remembered you knocked in my car door.

When it's all over and done and when I can start to drink for the fun will be the day I will no longer curse my past, for surely I knew our devilish love could not last.

As the wind blows against
the window and its clothing,
while today has began to  turn
into tomorrow, a drift the locks of
a feather spirals towards
the ever moving ground.
Troublesome hearts beat
spreading venom into every
possible vein. Arise is coldness,
bitter ends and misplaced love
fluttering throughout a thought
and twisting to and fro towards
its catastrophe.

Faith is a fragile thing; it
wavers here and it tapers off there. Yet,
it is the most valuable object one can have.
Metaphorically, giving up your faith
is ending your own life. I can feel my
faith swelling up inside me, deep inside
until it bubbles up inside my eyes.
My faith will save me. My mind
sometimes fools me into forgetting this, but
keeping my faith means an everlasting life
with Him, everything I could ever want.
God is my everything and
everything is God.

It's nauseously living in a world full of nauseaous feelings while living is nauseating.

It's dying a thousand deaths while dying is a thing of terror, but dying being inevitable, while we wish we were dead.

It's a simple thing really, this thing called existing. Are we existing right now or are we yet to exist?

Humanity is tenasious. Yet, no one has any tenasion.

Aghaslty we sit, we stand, we walk, we dance, we lie. Aghastly, it's unimaginable, but we die.

And for once, nothing is the best thing I can think to write.

Hey dude, you are so undesireable yet you sit here as to say, "Hey, I know you want to **** me, I would too!" But sweetie, we don't. We could not care any less.
Yes, I want you as much as a tuba likes a pp. And you are as useful to me as mezzo forte is to the color guard.
Take a breath, sweet thang, and swallow that love in your heart which happens to be only filled with you, yourself, and hey what do ya know, more YOU.

The clock strikes eight o'clock and the realization sets in. The birds have stopped their singing, the sun has ceased it's shining, and the wind is not blowing.
There is nothing but my thoughts and I. The world is still, not a cloud in sight. I am a prisoner taken by night.
Succeeding in forcing my thoughts out of my mind in the day, they hit me like  a ton of bricks.
I am a prisoner.  They lock me in my room when all I want to do is sit and watch the stars. They force me to give into the shadows, to sit by myself and think.
I am not allowed to write, for my hands are tied behind my back and they have broken my pencils in to. Forever do I long to be freed, to be who I am, a free spirit. I do not wish to be captivated by normalcy any longer.
They feel it in their fingertips and in their toes.
I was meant for so much more.
My heart yearns to be free, to feel what it wants without critisim.
My thoughts ache to be written.

I have found a new love, and there they
sit in the darkest hour of skies. They never stop
twinkling in their place in the atmosphere.
They are a promise after a long day
that I will know beauty again when I get home.
They make me smile for I have never known a
thing more pleasant than a star.
Maybe that is why I will never be satisfied with life.
There is no future I could ever want when
here, right now, there are my stars in the sky.

You used to be good,
yet now poison filled lies
escape from your tongue.
Their bitter edge has left open cuts and
scars imprinted on your lips.
Forever will you be immortalized
in the scratches gave to me upon my back and
the hell fire you breathed upon my
hair.
Isn't it a shame, dear, You let me
die in hell while I thought you
were my own personal heaven?

I am not a daisy yet your words cut me down.
Neither am I a rusty bucket, yet my eyes pour out.
My throat is pained with the words that refuse to come through, can't you see?
I am broken, and here I cry out in need of help.
Help me, I lied, I am not okay. I am not fine.
Life is a daily struggle, a horrible one of mine.
I need someone, it used to be you, don't you remember?
Now I have no one. No one indeed.
My hands have not ceased their shaking, my heart, quickly palpitating.
What is this called? This place I am alone in? Hell? Purgatory?
My soul is damaged, please leave me be.

I'll be dancing in the street
with flowers in my hair and
without a care until the sun
stops shining and the earth
stops turning. I'll be writing
words forever until my hand
aches and my fingertips bleed
and I have nothing else to say.
I'll be sitting in my room
sipping tea while it's too hot,
with one ear bud in ignoring
the world for hours and hours
because I can, the world is
beautiful that way.
My scratches on paper with
my no. 2 pencil will continue
to mean nothing to society
and everything to me
furthermore but will never
disable me.
I'll be missing when they
look for me, fret none for
I get lost in words.

Can you tell me when?
                    What dear?
When will being yourself be easier that suicide? And don't
call me dear.
                   Well, let's not talk about that, sit and eat your breakfast.
If not now, then when??
                   Be still, girl, and when you finish, go comb your hair.
Would you rather I end my own life than to stop pretending to be something I am not?
                  You now that's not what I mean. And you aren't pretending, you are just being silly. I put some more lip gloss in your purse. The pastor called, he wants to read you some scripters later. And your dad is going to take you shopping for some girlier clothes, those are horrid. Have you seen that nice boy who lives across the street, you should try to get to know him. You two would make some pretty kids. And-

Can you all just.. stop. Maybe it will be clearer when I'm not here for you to accept who I am..
                Be quiet, young lady. Pass the butter.
But I am not a lady..
And at that she laughed and reached across my plate and got the butter. She had to spread it with a spoon because she thought all the knives were missing, but if she listened closely she could have heard the clinging noise they made under my bed.

You kissed me with your eyes open
because you said you could only believe
what could be seen.
I kissed you with my eyes closed
because I told you that sight does
not come from the eyes but with
knowledge from the heart.

Imagine the day without a break,
every single mistake, forgiven and all but forgotten
all the good outshining the bad and the worthy
without the worthless. Never will the speechless be
crucified for the wordless. A penny be worth a penny
in a jar, but the dollar ruined in the washer with
only but tomorrow's sorrows. All the melodies
one could ever sing, and every "amen" the night
could never bring. Your hands could choose without
fear and the mind could forsake a being even if not near.
Let the addicts fulfill their need! Pour up their jugs with blood
and let the pigs roll over in mud, it's not the business but
theirs. Could the rivers flow up stream? And the Lord feel down? Oh, what a catastrophe.

That blonde hair dazzles me from afar,
Moments escape and minutes tick by
Stealing my precious heart beats,
Each a new beat for my blonde
Fellow.

My eyes gaze from afar,
Over his gray sweater
To the perfectly fit khakis at his
Waist and down to his brown
Suede shoes.
Oh, how I wish to feel the
Cotton at his neck, but only
Am I permitted to admire
From afar.

I could write a poem
to tell you,
but you still would be
to ******* closed minded
to differentiate my words
from my left *** cheek.

I know this is a poetry site, but Tyler Joseph needs to know in every way how much he means to me. Without him and his music, I probably wouldn't be alive, writing poetry anymore. So, thank you Tyler. You deserve the best birthday anyone could ever have. The song, Migraine, is one that speaks so dearly to my heart. No, you are not alone, Tyler! I am right here with you. And yes, Fridays are indeed better than Sundays. :) I need your music and your words! Who else is going to encourage me to keep living?? I love you so much Tyler. And Josh :).

My mind has never been a peaceful place,
oceans and birds scream to be let go, freed,
from my thoughts.
Tidal waves and earthquakes
Gluttony and lust
Cigarettes and matches,
that is all that's left.

Fire and ice,
Heaven and Hell;
  Come save me from myself..
   After everything,
    Would you really let me fall?
Would you watch as my flesh burned
And as I became.. nothing?
A disturbing serenity.
Please, your radiating apathy
   Is bone chilling!
    Tell me, pastor,
     How can he be forgiven for this?
I swallowed my passion yet
It burns deep down.
  If I am indeed dead,
   Tell me my inspiration still lives.
     A promise, that, my soul is not at rest.

Sitting in class with her is strange
it's odd,
it's different,
it's weird
it's difficult.
Tell me why, why am I disapointed when she's not there?
When she's gone, I miss her silky hair.
I have always liked her, yet this time it's different.
She has a personality you can not hate, yes, do not blame me.
Look at her!
******, pure ****** is she.
Golden by the sun
and as pure as a stream.
Surely she knows I am addicted.