Open the door and walk in
keep your head and don't avoid faces
say hi
make your presence known
well that's what i wish i did
i had enough courage built up in the hallway
but with my hand on that door
i forgot what courage feels like
so
i walked in trying to make the least amount of noise
looking at the syrup i dropped on my shoes this morning
made sure not to say anything
instead i didn't even say hi to my favorite teacher
i approached a chair and realized someone was there so
i searched for a place to sit
i opened my laptop and decided to just observe never talk

i want to apologize to everyone i've judged
you are amazing and unique it
may not be obvious
but you are loved if
not by your
family, you
are loved
by me

everybody has sad stories
maybe we just need to learn how to hear stories other than our own

"look at anxious annie, anxious again"
"why is anxious annie always crying"
oh annie how naive are you
you can't have nice things
you don't get to have true friends
best friends never keep secrets
you told her everything annie
you told her how anxiety was the only thing that could hurt you if people made jokes
when she suddenly decided to call you anxious annie you should've known
you built up those walls so high but she weaseled her way in
but when you forgave her that was your fault
you told her about carving your wrists
you shouldnt have been surprised when everyone knew the next day
or when people started staring at your wrists when they thought you couldnt see them
after all annie
isn't the phrase
fool me once shame on you
fool me twice shame on **me

Dear eliot@hellopoetry.com
how does it feel to control thousands of poem
to decide which are good enough to be the poem of the day
have you ever written a poem
was it slam
was it funny
how do you decide who represents their feelings the best
your work seems underrated
so thankyou
thankyou for making the tough decisions

when you say my name i can hear birds singing
its the middle of February and the birds have migrated
but
i still hear them singing

in this room i am the youngest, smallest
i hear pieces of tens of conversations
never getting to taste the full conversation
the pieces i hear are made up of knives instead of words
each letter is another rope tying around my neck
the walls seem like they are closing in on me
i am waiting for the pain signaling there is no more space for me
my throat is tightening in the anticipation of someone noticing
noticing the girl in the corner of the room
the girl with sweat collecting on her forehead
behind her glasses she is trembling
but no one notices
after all
who notices one girl in a crowded room