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arms around my ankles
dragging me further down
you never show me mercy
only watch me drown
and now I have been trying
to climb and crawl back out
but you keep filling my mind
with horrible thoughts and doubt
she picks the nail polish off her nails
words cut her open when at school
when the sizeable switchblade slashes her skin
her curly hair covers her face
her teachers actions stress her out
paper is thrown as she gets off the bus
a mile she walks as she gets taunted
she slams the door to find love and affection
a smile on her face as school is not a thought
In her bed alone;
Darkness creeps
Schizophrenic ways
Fire inside
Rusted blades
she wakes up at night to find morning again;
Sizeable Switchblade
I'm a ******
I don't do drugs or drink
my only flaw is how much I think
I don't believe in God but I believe in me
And I don't know where I belong on my family tree

I don't propose that **** is based on a girl's clothes
I suppose I'm dumb or brilliant but who really knows
You could say that I'm narcissistic or have low self-esteem
with a girlfriend with a pocketless pocket and a head full of dreams

Whoa that didn't flow, that last line
Imperfect effort seems to be an attribute of mine
Look at this rhyme scheme, it's so diverse
I guess I can get away with this; I couldn't get any worse
One favorite, three favorite, fifty-four
Give me validation, I could always use some more
Hello, Hellopoetry! You've been so forgiving
of my beautiful poetry that reflects an ugly way of living
Tell me, tell me: Should I write more?
What if my sadness is gone, and my melancholy no more?
Will you still love me if I write about crinkle-cut fries?

"****. No more suicide poems, does this kid still try?"

Is there still a Josh Haines if he no longer cries?
Is there still a Josh Haines if he doesn't wanna die?
Is there still a Josh Haines if he starts to fall?
Is there still a Josh Haines if he gets it all?
Is there still a Josh Haines after every kiss?
Is there still a Josh Haines after he writes all of this?

Eh. Maybe, baby. Maybe.
I sell for a living.
But not the kind of selling
you do at the supermarket
and not the kind you do on the net
but the kind where I give parts of me
to strangers I will never again see.

Strangers like the boy with the pretty eyes
and the woman shedding tears
and the gentleman with many stories.

I give away the parts of me
I think will make others smile
an ear for you sir
and a part of my heart to you madamme
would you like a hand? a dimple?
Let me know because I give it all
and when you leave
don't say goodbye,
let me believe
and dream that one day we will meet again
and you will give those parts back
so I can be whole once again
for the one who would have cared
from the collection - *insecurities*
Did you hear that sound?
It's my heart's beat
The bump grows louder
The closer our hearts meet
I'm so in LOVE with the LOVE in you
Stars apart
But you light me up like the moon
She's Broken.
© Victoria
sometimes you're like homework
so confusing
and i just stare at you
absent-mindedly
hating you
yet you're important to me
it's so hard to finish you
and i lose inspiration every now and then
but when i get high as my grades
i come running back to you

i can't wait to graduate from school
get rid of this infatuation
we would be adults by then
and hopefully this mess will be sorted out
DEMONS
DEMONS
I feel like I can hear them
but they are not whispering.
the screams are peircing my ears during the middle of the stone cold night.
their faces are horrific
but they have pretty smiles.
theyre quite big, yet they walk for miles.
I know they walk because im followed everywhere I go.
I act like theyre not there and play pretend.
the funny thing is I used to call these demons friends.
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