Every night I try to press myself
into the pages of my favorite book,
and every night I realize that the spine
is too weak to hold onto all the extra vowels.

So instead,  
I tear out every single page.
I fold them into paper airplanes,
each with my lip stain on the wing,
and I scatter them in your yard.
I watch every one glide and soar
until it crashes, even after I've
woken the neighbors. Even after
your parents have called the police.
Even after you stand in front of me,
so close that all I can do is crush them
against your chest.

Everyone plays a part in the game of life
some are meant to succeed and thrive
while many are starving and struggling to survive.

This game has top tier people who rule the rest
while there is people on the bottom rung just trying their best
there is people like you and me and if food's on the table we feel quite blessed.

The people on the top control most of the cash
while those down below struggle to even make a splash
even if given an opportunity it's gone in a flash.

To the greedy, the overly wealthy, the top tier class
I have something to say while it maybe rash
you can kiss my poor, lower class, white, American ***.

Yeah
That thing
****** me over

It keeps driving
Straight into
A brick wall of sickness.

everyone always asks whats wrong
and its the fact that im always in my own thoughts
always hurting some kind of way
i can't remember what it like to feel
genuinely happy without being judged
im never going to be good enough for some people
im never going to be perfect
its amazing i make it from day to day
im not as strong as people perceive me to be
im completely unstable
and my mind often goes haywire
i overthink things
i stress little things
staring at the walls
i often wonder how it'd be without me in this world
probably better, probably best
but it would be selfish to take a life
that could possibly change the world
i could possibly, one day, make a difference
but right now its a struggling battle
between myself and the world
and it hurts, its painful
because its a pain that stains my soul
i wish i could protect myself
from the stupidity, ignorance, and fears that taunt me
but i can't
im a just a girl, a young girl
with a broken soul
if i told you my story,
would you listen?

I climbed the rotted staircase
into the blackest part
of my brain
where a fridgid silent room
awaits a tenant
patient, and strong
enough to live with
it’s secrets
it's burdens
heavy as the
Earth.
.
I gave you the key
and my faith
” It’s going to be tough.”
” I can handle it.”
You were so sure.
But I knew I would
destroy you
in the end.
.
I wondered about you
up there,
alone with my
raw, unpolished thoughts.
Sometimes I cried,
knowing that I was hurting you.
All my painful words
and horrors
came to live with you
in the dark room.
.
I can feel your screams.
They reverberate through
my body
to this day.
.
Grief swallowed me,
and shoved me up the stairs
where blood spilled over
the steps
and pooled at my feet,
icy, and thick as tar.
” Go see,”
” Go see what you have done.”
Grief whispered.
.
I already knew.
You said you could fix me
repair my mangled
memories.
I didn't believe you.
In the dark room
I saw you sit on the
window sill,
while my demons played
at your feet.
You reasoned with
the glass.
.
I saw you open the latch.
I saw you let go.
you fell.
Ifel alongside you.
Deeper into my
warped little mind
where I buried myself in
guilt.
.
It was my undoing
that left you
to rot
in my
darkness.
.