People kept telling her:
"you can't be this, you can't be that"
the girl pretended to listen, their words a blur
she sat there unnoticed, her face flat.

She went to school
receiving an education
she let her parents rule
keeping silent, hiding her creation.

When the nights closed in
and her parents went to sleep
she took out a notebook with a grin;
after all it wasn't theirs to keep.

She bled out words
that had stuck on her skin
outside chirped nice birds
unlike the crows she hid within.

Soon her graduation came
as she held her diploma in hand
she heard her own name
with it came the feared demand.

"You'll become a lawyer like us, right?"
the girl whirled around to see
her mum and dad standing up to their full height
she bit her lip, only wanting to be free.

"No," she told them, "I will not!"
she looked her parents straight in the eye
looking like they'd both been shot
but the girl didn't want to lie.

"I'll become a writer,"
she told them, with a light smile
her parents did not turn brighter
but that hadn't ever been their style.

He was a bad boy
because he didn’t care.
He saw a girl as nothing but a toy
and inhaled cigarette smoke like air.

His cap turned the wrong way
he was ready for battle.
His eyes fastened upon his next prey,
in the dark streets of Seattle.

Swallowing cute lilac pills
he survived the day.
He didn’t pay the bills
but who cares anyway?

The bad boy had after many years
stopped caring about his health.
Once he took one too many beers
lost his money and chose to resort to stealth.

His parents didn’t suspect a thing,
nor did the ones calling themselves friends.
To them, he was still their king
and they let him borrow their pens.

With a pencil in one hand
and ***** in the other.
Hoping someone would understand,
he bled out the thoughts he hadn’t even dared tell his brother.

She wore her strength on her sleeves
in the form of intricate tattoos,
to her all that matters is what she believes
and she'll conquer the world in her black shoes.

Her hair was dark, reaching her waist
and her eyes were the best of jade,
her examinations she all aced
her mind being as sharp as a blade.

Named after a  ruthless killer
but with a heart made of gold,
she doesn't mind a thriller
her story will be told.

In a world full of magic
and light and darkness,
her story ends in tragic
but she was never heartless.

Throw rocks on my car
and spit curses in my face.
I'll sharpen my teeth for war,
getting ready for the chase.

I'll cut you and let you bleed,
for all the times you've broken me.
I won't listen to you plead,
but laugh in your face with wicked glee.

My teeth are razor sharp,
and I've put on my war paint.
Trust me, no angels will play the harp,
when neither of us have claimed to be a saint.

I've never been a damsel in distress,
no I can fend for myself.
With claws for nails and rivets on my dress,
you brought this upon yourself.

Don't take your life.
I mean; it's up to you,
but I don't want to lose you.
The pain doesn't go away -
it just finds more people to hold onto.

I believe that there are people out there
who we are meant for.
But by that I don't mean that
everything's perfect or
that we are living happily ever after.

Think of what you're sacrificing.

Imagine fighting with your partner
but you solve it and in the end of the day
you sleep next to each other
and you're happy.

You're not perfect -
but who is?

There is forgiveness -
not from others but ourselves.
If you forgive yourself
then I can forgive you too,
and your mother,
and father,
and sisters can
all forgive you.

It all starts
and ends
with you.

And you need to make a list of
the pros and cons of taking your life
before you toss a coin in the air
and let it decide the life for you.

I believe in you.
Please believe on yourself.

You made me cry today.

You raised your voice at me
as if I wasn't sitting in the seat
right next to you.

You told me I didn't listen -
that I never listened.
And that I didn't understand,
nor even try.

You screamed all this
at the top of your lungs
instead of
being a mature parent
and talk with your daughter
in a civilised tone.

But you don't do civil,
do you, mum?

But then again, you don't see your faults either
but focus on mine and others'.

It's funny how you accuse me of not
listening when in reality
you cut me off when I tried to speak.

You took my voice, mum.
And you refused to give it back.

I was your shield,
and you were my doom.
My heart you peeled,
until it could no longer bloom.

My face is blank,
void of emotion.
With you I'll be frank,
you've set a snowball in motion.

For a while I've been tumbling;
falling, but never landing.
The skies are grey and rumbling,
enjoy life while you're still standing.

Crimson lips and
****** fangs to match
she takes boys by their hands
and later examine her catch.

They all fall for her
one by one
their vision a blur
and her work is done.

She tosses them in the bin
when she gets bored
the boys think they can win
but they never even scored.

She walks with confidence
wearing a crown of bones
the boys walk with dominance
too blinded by their hormones.

She devours them alive
with her crimson lips
she goes in for the final dive
only needing to sway her hips.

I'm clever as the devil
and twice as pretty,
I'm on the same level
so save me your pity.

With words used as bullets
in attempt to pierce my heart,
I'm a woman who's overworked and crooked
all the while you got a head start.

All I wish for is equality
but you feel offended,
but tell me honestly:

if we're so equal, then why hasn't sexism ended?

There once was a girl
who drove a big, black bus
to the edge of a bridge
overlooking the sea.

In the occupied seats
sat her torturous demons
ready to attack her
if needed be.

The girl opened the doors
and walked out to the shore
her demons following
closely behind.

She turned her back
to the edge of the sea
and told them she needed
a moment alone.

She reached out and touched
her forehead with her index
closing her eyes
to savour the moment.

She then took out a blade
from the inside of her jeans
tore it through the air
to make the demons flee.

They hissed and they clawed
slashed their talons in the air
but the girl bit back the tears
and let out a war cry.

She gripped her demons
by their beastly throats
twisting her hands
and the demons fell down.

She gathered them all
in her big, black bus
pushed it in the water
and let her demons drown.

“I’m not okay.”

There, I said it out loud.
Is that supposed to make me feel better?

You keep telling me to
get over it
or if it’s that bad then why don’t I
just get help?

You make it seem like it’s some kind of
miracle cure
to talk with a therapist once a week
when in reality
the healing takes forever.

And the pain just goes on
and on
like on repeat.

“Therapists are expensive,” you sigh
like my life was cheap??

With sweet smiles thrown your way
and poisonous words whispered in your ear,
they won't remember your birthday
and sometimes completely disappear.

You think they're so friendly and nice
when they talk with you all the time,
but let me tell you, darling, their hearts are ice
and their souls are worse than sticky slime.

You still believe them, honey
so let me make it easy and fill in the blanks,
if they aren't your friends for your money
then give them your sincerest thanks.

I still power through the day
like a bulldozer on display
for the world to believe
that I'll make it past New Year's Eve.

With a body that fights to survive
and with a mind that wants to die
I remember when I was five
years old and grateful for a blue sky.

Now my world is painted black
and I'm a shell of the girl I used to be
I wear a stone-filled backpack
faking being carefree.

I don't want to burden anyone
with my "small, inconvenient issues"
it's not like a shotgun
is being pressed to a small girl's head without tissues.

Fragile but never
broken;
the clinking sound
of a harsh touch.

The knocks grow louder,
the glass never breaks.
This Glass Girl is
at home in her cage.

He is like an arrow before it launches
- calm, yet deadly.

I've been sinking
for a while now.

Day after day
I'm drowning;
gasping for
oxygen
that
my lungs
need to survive;
for my heart to beat;
and for my mind to live.

There's no one to pull me
out of the dark water
other but me
and it's killing me
to know that the only
person who can save me is
me, myself and I.

I'm kicking out
trashing my whole
body but still
I don't reach surface
and I won't anytime soon.

He fell for somebody once.

Then she told him nobody would ever love him and

he suddenly stopped falling and hit the ground.

But why would I move the moon
for a person who left me to burn on the sun?