I hurt when I saw him, my brain went dead and I couldn’t speak.
He looked perfect, I wanted to talk to him but I knew I couldn't.

She likes the smell of forgotten old books, the ones that are hidden in the library shelves.
She likes taking the books home and reading them all night long in her bed.
She will always take a book with her, no matter where she is going.
She can escape into fictional worlds, where she fights dragons and warlocks.
One day she hopes she can write a book, one day she hopes to inspire others.

I died inside, I would cry so hysterically as if it would bring him back to life.
I needed him, he had always been there.
He will never hold me again.
He will never come home with flowers for me.
He will never smile.
He’s dead, I’m alone.
I love you, someday we will see each other again.

Please wake me up, tell me I’m alive.
I feel numb sometimes it’s hard to open up to people nowadays.
I need help, say something to me and then maybe I will believe in this world again.

Sometimes when I look into my mom’s eyes, it feels like I don’t know her, it feels like evil has taken over.

Mom, I’m coming home.
You said you had concerns that you needed to talk about.
It seems you want me there.
I love you mom.
Mom, I’m coming home.
Wait for me please, don’t leave.
I will be there; we can talk then.

She died, no one asked if I was ok.
I had to pack her stuff up and put it in the garage, I guess they thought that would wipe her existence away and make it seem like she was never here.
She was here though, she touched my life.
A life was lost, no one cares.

Once when I was a little kid, I had a bad dream.
I called for my dad, I said daddy, daddy come here please.
I told him I had a bad dream.
He sat down on my bed and said I have the perfect solution.
He told me, when I close my eyes and the monsters come into my dreams spray them with a magical spray.
He said, it gets rid of monsters instantly.
If they don’t go away he said, I can always call him.
I never had to though, I used the magical spray he talked about when monsters came around.
When I became older though and I had demons haunting my head, the spray didn’t work.
I didn’t feel like I could talk to my dad.
I was lost and things were getting worse.
I stopped calling him, I cried and fought my bad dreams alone when I got older.
Where did you go dad?

When you remember me, please remember my smile.
When you remember me, think of the way I laughed.
When you remember me, remember the way my hair looked in the morning.  
Don’t remember my cuts or scars, I’m not ashamed that I cut, but you are.
I want you to remember me running through the sprinkler or making silly faces underwater.
I want you to remember me wearing miss-matched socks.
I want you to know how much I loved you, because I really do.
I’m sorry if you are reading this, I didn’t want you to live a day without me there with you.
I want you to know it’s ok if you find someone else to love, someone you can make love with.
Someone who does your laundry like I did.
I want you to find someone who likes mint chocolate chip ice cream as much as we did.

I count every calorie of every day
Hoping one day I will be as beautiful as you.
I need to lose weight, you told me I was fat, gross, and a *****.
You wonder why I’m so insecure.
I’m not allowed to get mad at you when you hit me and make me feel worthless.
I look in the mirror thinking of everything you have ever told me, I think about all my imperfections and my mistakes I have made.
Sometimes I think about what my daddy said and I think I’m strong enough to leave you, but I stay and you know I will.  
I whisper loving words in your ear at night.
Praying you will do the same one day.

Sad Poems.
Sad Girl.
Sad World.
There is no light, I see only darkness.
I can’t remember the last time I was ok.
Eating Disorder.
Self-Harming.
Binge eating junk food.
I can't remember the last time I didn't do those things.

Dad messaged me yesterday around 5.
I thought this drama was over.
He said listen carefully, so I did.
He said, I have 2 choices.
I can come home Sunday, or have grandma take legal guardianship of me.
No middle ground he said.
If I go back to my parents’ home, he said I won’t see grams except for the weekend.
He has said all this before.
This time feels different though.
He said make a decision after I read his messages, I was supposed to message him right after.
I told him this is a life alerting choice, a decision I can’t make alone.
I told him I would be at the house on Sunday though, what else could I have said?
I went to my aunt’s house yesterday, to get her opinion on it.
I’m getting a lawyer, I’m ready to live life.

It’s in the past, it’s history.
I remember when it happened, seems so long ago.
My heart still hurts and I cry sometimes when I’m reminded of what happened.
Somehow I have kept going and I have lived.
I’m breathing and eating.
It’s in the past, I still remember though.

You’re not a kid anymore, your all grown up.
I’m only 15 though, but you act like I’m 21.
I drink to hide the pain.
I cut myself to release the pain, it’s an addiction now.
A few years ago I had life planned, but now it’s all blurry and I just struggle to get out of bed.
I just want everything to stop, Breathe. Just breathe.
How do I look at people? I let people down.
None of this matters now, I never mattered.
I still want to believe in a future but I’m stuck in this nightmare.

I’m not sure why I thought this.
I had a rule, fat girls weren’t allowed to have short hair.
What I was saying is, I wasn’t allowed to have short hair because I was fat.
A form of punishment you could call it.
I didn’t think I deserved to have short hair.
Today I was going to go get my hair done.
I was sitting and looking at a magazine, I was waiting to see if they had anyone available.
I don’t know why, for some reason I decided to finally cut my hair short.
While the girl was cutting my hair, I looked around and saw other clients.
I didn’t want to look; I was afraid I had made the wrong choice.
It was too late though; she was already cutting it.
But I raised my head after I gave myself a speech inside my head.
I said it is just hair. It will grow back Steph.
I peeked at it and looked down quickly.
I looked again, is that really me?
The hairdresser blow dried my hair.
She asked afterwards, do you like it?
I didn’t know what to say besides yes I love it.
I really love it.
Do I really love it?
It’s a big change from my long hair.

I can’t **** myself because my sadness would be over.
I can’t **** myself, because I would never be able to cut myself again.
I can’t **** myself because people would think I’m a coward if I did.
My sadness would be over though; I would no longer feel.
I wouldn’t be able to cut myself anymore, I wouldn’t be able to leave more scars for my mom to see on my corpse if I killed myself.
If I killed myself, cuts wouldn’t fill my arm anymore.
If I killed myself, my parents wouldn’t be able to fight over me.
If I killed myself, my grandma wouldn’t have to worry about if I made it or not after she died.
If I killed myself, I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone anymore, I wouldn’t be able to hurt you.
If I killed myself, I wouldn’t ever see your angry eyes and  hear your voice raising higher and higher.
If I killed myself, there would be an empty seat at the table, we never sit at.
Death sounds inviting doesn’t it?
Do I have enough courage to **** myself though?
I would never go to my first job interview.
I would never learn to drive.
I would never be able to disappoint you again.
If I killed myself, you would cry.
You would be sad; you would keep living though.
The whole world would keep going, everything would be the same. Nothing would change and no one’s world would stop if I killed myself.

The knife is calling my name, the razor in the bathroom is screaming at me.
I look down at my arm and see the scars, I pull down my sleeves to cover all the memories the scars leave.
I try to get up and live, I remember the first time I cut I was 13.
I don’t want to live anymore, Goodbye.

I remember when we were little kids.
We use to play with dolls in your mother’s front yard, until we got tired.
You got out your bike and tried to teach me how to ride, but I never learned I fell.
In the Summer when it was warm we played in the sprinkler, until it got to warm.
In Autumn we played in the colorful leaves, until your mom yelled and said rake the leaves.
In the Winter we played in the snow making snowmen, we had snowball fights and when we got cold your mom would make hot chocolate and give us warm blankets out of the dryer.
We played Battleship and Monopoly until we fell asleep.
Sometimes on the weekends if I were there, we would wake up before your parents and watch cartoons. We would eat Lucky Charms and Coco Puffs.

I loved drinking water on an empty stomach I waited for the water to slip down my throat.
I'm empty,
I’m cold, in a warm room.
I’m fat.
I want food, no you don’t need it. I love not eating.
78 calories 1 large egg.
95 calories 1 medium apple.
45 calories 1 small orange.
Eat it, throw it all up after.

Another day passes by, while you watch others live.
All you seem to do is cry; You are broken, you are tired.
Your life is passing by you don’t care anymore.
You would **** yourself if it didn’t hurt your family, you can’t put your mom through more pain though.

It's like the words of my mother haunt me, it haunts me in my sleep and in the day.
When she is my mother and she seems to care, it is easier to keep going. You live for the moments when things seem ok.

She slipped through my fingers.
I couldn’t help her.

She is being pulled and pushed around.
She is being dragged around.
She hates this world; she has no freedom.
She always dreamed of getting out of this place at 18.
Wishes in her  heart usually never came true.
Getting use to the world was a struggle.
So innocent at one time.
She is labeled as depressed, suicidal, and a self-harmer.
Liar is her new name.
Life rejected her, she really rejected the world because she is scared.

It’s hard at night, when I go to bed alone.
I keep the other side of the bed open, acting like someone will climb into bed with me.
Red flames fell out of the candle on my table I watched from my empty bed.
A starry night soaked in the rain. I felt so cold to sit alone, there was no one to talk to tonight.
When I wake up, I wake up alone knowing no one will make me breakfast.
I don’t have anyone to kiss goodbye before I go to work.
I don’t have anyone to hold at night.
I try to push on yet I had no strength left.
This incident gave me a wish, it’s all centered on you. I wish we weren’t single in our distant life.

He said I’m a great poet.
Never stop writing he said, never.
He told me he loves my work, he said he loves me.
He made me feel something again.
I’m afraid to lose him, he means everything to me.
He has taught life lessons.
I’m different, I have changed people notice.
He helped me realize I’m beautiful.
I’m so much more confident.
I would of never wrote this much and pursued writing more if it weren’t for him.
I love him, I love him this is the best feeling in the world.

Broken Glass
Dismantled sharpeners
Razors
Knives
Box Cutters
The things I use to hurt myself.
Cut my wrist one, two, three times.
If I do it right red blood drips out.
It washes away my mistakes, it helps me it really does.
I get a high every time I cut my wrist.
I do it in the most obvious place, why hasn’t anyone noticed?
-written by a cutter that's been broken for 5 years and has a knife, razor and broken glass collection in my room.

I went to the house, for the first time in months.
I had spent so many hours here.
This felt like home, this is where my heart was at.
I wasn’t supposed to be here; my parents would get mad.
I wanted to see them though.
My aunt, my uncle, my cousins.
I didn’t want it to end, I walked through the house looking at everything.
I saw the vase I made my aunt.
I saw pictures of me when I was younger.
My cousin and I played basketball.
I watched my uncle watch football.
I talked to my oldest cousin.
I memorized the house before I left.
I don’t know when I will see you all again.
I love you so much.

I was dead before we met.
I was born again when you fell in love with me.
I lived while we were together, somehow even when things ended between us I find the strength to keep going.
But some days are hard and I struggle to even get up,
I don't lay on your side of the bed to make it seem like your coming back.
I keep your clothes in the closet even when I don't have enough room for mine.
I love you.

Say something.
Speak up, you have a voice don’t you?
Doesn’t anyone want to listen to you?
You are lovely, can’t you see that?

Broken heart.
My dad.
Lost love.
Self-harm.
Making things ok with my mother.
Seeing my cousins grow up.

None of this matters now.
I’m tired of living, maybe I should die.

The sun is beating down on his face; he is an older man.
He is sitting on a park bench; he is feeding birds bread.
A girl comes walking up to the older man, she seems happy to see him.
The girl is crying tears of joy it seems.
The older man hugs the girl, they sit down on the bench.
The girl hands him a box, a box full of letters she wrote to him over the years.
The man slowly reads each one, sometimes smiling and laughing at what he reads.
He begins to read more, the man starts crying.
He is reading about her issue with her weight and food.
He reads about her self-harm.
The man slowly looks at the girl, he says I'm sorry honey.
I'm sorry I couldn't of been there for you, but I'm here now.

The edge looks so inviting.
I could close my eyes and it could be all over.  
One step and then I’m dead.
Should I jump?

A little cut here, a little cut there.
No one will notice.
No one cares.
Hide the scars with band- aids and sleeves.
Cutting is the only time I feel alive.
I wont do it anymore I promise, lie.

The child is crying, she is helpless.
People are yelling at her.
She is trying to grab onto her mother.
I couldn’t handle the screaming, I heard a lot of it when I was younger.
I didn’t want to scream; I didn’t want to say anything.
I’m as bad as the people who abused me.
I’m no better I watched her cry, I didn’t pick her up.
I’m so sorry.

The victims deal with the abuse.
Then when they get enough courage to leave, they have to go into hiding.
Afraid every-time the phone goes off, that it is them.
Every-time someone knocks on the door, they wonder.
Have I been found? Will I have to move again?
When they go out, they look behind them constantly making sure no one is following them.
Careful to post any information on social media, so they cannot be cyber stalked by them.
A friend request on the internet makes them suspicious, wondering if that could be them.
Someone who is friendly sets off alarms, wondering if somehow this person could be related to their abuser.
The victim did not ask for any of this yet, the only way to survive is to leave and hide.
Forever wondering if they will be found and put through the abuse again.

Goodbye.
Wait.
I need to live, I need everyone to know my name.
I need people to know, how long I fought.
I need them to know, that they wounded me.
Everyone has to know my name.
Please, don't let me be gone and forgotten.

Wake me up.
I have had this dream before.
Tired eyes.
Wrinkle under eyes.
Tired body.
Stressed mind.
Please take me out of this dream, I can no longer live in this world I have created.
Where you are the Prince and do no wrong.
A glimpse of light crawled through the darkness and I saw the light, you were trying to hide me from.
I'm no longer yours.

Staying in the situation wasn't possible.
I had to get out from his sight.
I had to leave.
I had no choice, not that I would of wanted to stay.
But, I sit and wonder what would of happened if I had.
If I stayed in the situation with him.
If's consume my mind.
It's hard to let go, of the past.
Because they were my life.
In a way they still are because I find myself consumed with thinking about them.
All those memories.
They were all fake.
They never cared.
But a part of me says it wasn't fake.
A war is happening inside of my head.
Who will win?

He is the winner.
He tried hard to win.
He did everything right, but also, he did everything wrong.
I thought he was right, I thought he did everything right.
I wasn't looking.
We all wanted to believe he was doing the right thing.
After a part of me realized he wasn't the hero, that he did have flaws.
It was already too late because a part of me was already poisoned.
Poisoned by his thoughts that he drilled inside of my brain while trying to make it seem he was there.
While the world was living, I was trying to stay alive and I believed he was helping.
Did he save me at all?
Was he part of the reason I stayed on this world?
Or was I the one who told myself to hang on?
Slowly day by day I try to cleanse my mind of what he said, I try to realize I was the one who saved myself.
But in the end, he is the winner because I don't think I will every truly cleanse my mind.
I will never be the same person I was before he came along.
But every time I take another step into the other direction that he wouldn't have approved of, I am winning.
But I will never be the winner, I will always be trying to get him out of my head.
I will always try to tell myself he isn't right, because no matter what I do a little part of me will believe his hateful words

If I told you, everything that has happened, would you believe me?
Because they didn't.
If I told you, everything I said to him, would you believe me?
Because he didn't care.
If I told you, what he did, would you blame me?
Because they did.
Would you love me, and trust me, would you understand if I told you everything?
If I told you everything, would you look at me different?
Would you see me as a victim?
Because I'm not, I don't want to be seen as a victim.
If I told you, that I'm happy now, would you believe me even after everything I have gone through?
Because I'm not sure if I am.

Everything had to be perfect. I had to have a knife, music and band aids.
I pick up the knife and slowly pull up my sleeve so my wrist can be seen.
I cut my wrist slowly thinking of all the reasons I want to cut.
I think about everything anyone has ever told me. I try to stop but I can’t.
I lied to myself and I keep telling myself I can stop.
Cut, cut, cut, blood.
The blood slowly goes down my wrist and I cry.
I want to stop I really do. I close my eyes; I sit down on the floor thinking about all my thoughts in the dark bathroom.

Everything comes back to you.
Over and over again.
I have told the truth.
Yet I'm the one punished.
For what you have done.

It's hard to hear your name.
It's hard to talk about you, when I know nothing about who you really are.
I want to believe that you are different.
I want to believe that you can show others who you truly are.
Because I only saw the part that wanted nothing good for me.
Do you care?
Do you miss me?
Do you ever hear my name?
Does the memory of me ever keep you up at night?
Do you ever want to cry, because of what you did?
Why won’t you admit it?

I had never opened up myself to anyone.
Until i had talked to you.
Before i had lived life.
Until you had taken control of mine.
I listened to you, thinking nothing was wrong.
All those words i had said, didnt matter to you.
I was desprate to hold onto anyone who showed me an ounce of love, healthy or not.
Everyone knows now.
I have to say it's worse.
I almost wish i had stayed oblivious to your ways.
Because i lost almost everyone i cared about.
Because they don't believe me.
It's not that though that is really bothering me.
It's the fact that, you can walk around and do anything you wish without a worry in the world.
I have to be the one who is stressed.
I am the one who doesn't  get to see the girls grow-up.
I have to sit at family functions and hear about you.
I have to hold it all in, because would look at me as though I was the crazy one.
When in truth, you are the one.
You are the one who thought it was ok.
You are the one.
But I'm the one who has to pay every-day.

Your love was never mine.
Even though I thought it was.
Because my love was yours.
I was so deep and I didn’t realize you didn’t feel the same.
I was blind, even though every sign was there that your love wasn’t mine.
Why did I have to fall in love, why did you not love me?
At times, I ponder late at night when everything has gone to sleep, I ponder if somehow i really wasn’t blind.
Maybe you did love me?
Will I ever know for sure, or will I always wonder?