I sewed my lips together so they would never utter your name again
the taste of blood filled my mouth
the year has come  and gone and i still find myself screaming your name in my sleep
i haven't talked about you in a year but your name and brown eyes are engraved into my brain
and i know that i deserved better than i got but sometimes i want to call
sometimes i want to say your name a million times
i tied my hands so they will never touch you
i remember the comfort of your skin
and the softness of your hair
and sometimes i think that nothing or no one will ever feel like you felt
i blinded myself so i couldn't see you anymore
so i couldn't count your eyelashes or the freckles on your cheeks
or watch your lips move as you sang along to a brand new song
i paralyzed myself to keep from running back to you
to stop myself from running to your house and knocking at your door
to stop myself from following you and ending up in the darkness
i did all of this to myself because i knew that this pain would never compare to pain of seeing you and being unable to love you
it has taken every cell of my being to not go insane over you ,
to not go crawling back
i will leave you behind and i will talk and feel and see and walk again
you were the only person i've ever loved but the year has come and gone and so have you

chicken legs.
anxious face.

i never quite fit in.

pale skin.
crooked teeth.

i get hurt easily and i don't like leaving my comfort zone.

awkwardly short.
frizzy hair.

i'm always scared around people and i just wanna stay home.

twelve year old boy's body.
black eyes.

i worry too much and swallow my words.

funny nose.
small ears.

i'm quite mediocre and ordinary and have no idea of what i'm doing or who i am or where i'm going

weird voice.
bad posture.

the thought of growing up scares me and i'm not good at making or keeping friends.

beautiful legs.
beautiful face.

i'm really good with animals and i like seeing people smile.

beautiful skin.
beautiful teeth.

i can make some nice doodles and have some great taste in music

beautifully short.
beautiful hair.

i can find my self worth even when others can't and i always try my best

beautiful body.
beautiful eyes.

i always pick myself up even if i feel like staying on the ground

beautiful nose.
beautiful ears.

when i finally get myself up, i help those around me get up too.

beautiful voice.
beautiful posture.

**all of my rough edges fit perfectly together and all of my flaws stitch together to make a human being that is worth while. and i will remember this when people who lack judgement and better perspective throw cruel words at me. No one will make me believe that all of my flaws aren't wonderful.

We're the kind of people that fade into the background
We're the kind of people that  get red as soon as someone says our name and often we're the ones that people forget are in the room.
This is us, too comfortable in our shell to even be bothered.
We are told we are too quiet and shy and that we lack a personality.
But they fail to see the universe within us and the light in our eyes and the kindness in our voice.
we don't waste our words
when we speak we make flowers grow and we build up but when they speak it only causes harm.
we do not misuse our words
and no we don't get the most popular award in school, and we probably get overlooked at parties and our names are not the kind of names that make it on to newspapers and quite frankly my dear,
we are unexceptional and quite mediocre (or at least they say).
but this is what we are and we are these things in the most beautiful way.
so please,don't take these words in a bad way when they throw them at you. Instead, hug them and realize that you are are you and that those who don't value you , lack some good judgement and are quite plain in perspective.  And overall, they will never have the privilege to truly see your wonder.
so when they stick the word "unexceptional" on to your forehead,remember you are unexceptional in the most exceptional way.

the purple under his eyes were the most beautiful color i have ever seen
the purple under his eyes made me love him more.
why couldn't he sleep?
what did he think about?
the way that his hair was never perfectly combed or his sneakers that were beautifully painted with mud.
no arrogance or cruelty in his eyes.
his eyes were the color of coffee and they had about 4 spoons of sugar in them.
he thought he was a failure but the only thing he failed at was to be able to see how sweet he made the world.
he thought he wasn't bright but he outshined the stars.
he wasn't just skin and bones he was stardust and gold.
and i told him every day
and with every act of kindness and love i watched him grow
i watched him develop
but his are got bitter and cold. no warmth no sugar
he told me my pixie cut was ugly and that i was to naive for him
he left a new man and i stayed in my apartment wondering how love and kindness created a monster
wondering why i had shattered myself in the process of picking up someone else's pieces

NO ONE WILL LOVE ME AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE OKAY I GOT INVITED TO A PARTY BUT I'M NOT GOING TO GO BECAUSE PEOPLE DON'T PAY ATTENTION TO ME BUT HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO MAKE FRIENDS IF I DON'T PUT MYSELF OUT THERE BUT MAYBE THEY DON'T WANT TO BE MY FRIEND AND I'M NOT PRETTY AND NO ONE WILL LOVE ME AND NOTHING WILL EVER  OKAY MY ART IS SUCKY MY POEMS ARE ****** AND I FAILED ALGEBRA 2 I'M PROBABLY THE LEAST EXTRAORDINARY HUMAN BEING TO EVER LIVE AND I WON'T GRADUATE WITH HONORS LIKE MY BROTHER AND  NO ONE WILL LOVE ME AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE OKAY MY DAD'S EYES LOOKS SAD AND MY MOM'S MOUTH SPEAKS SAD WORDS AND THERE'S BILLS TO PAY AND EMPTINESS IN OUR HEARTS AND WHY ARE THERE SO MANY INJUSTICES WHY ARE THE GOOD PEOPLE SO SAD AND OH MY GOD WHY CANT I BREATHE ANYMORE WHY AM I BROKEN WHY DOES NOTHING SEEM TO BE RIGHT AND I JUST WANT TO BREATHE AGAIN
I JUST WANT TO BE LOVED I JUST WANTS THINGS TO BE OKAY

I look in the mirror and my heart breaks a little,
Sleepless nights and cuts on my thighs.
I have an undying hope that tells me that things are going to change and that hope is the oxygen in my lungs.
It picks me up from the ground and makes me walk.
It makes bare the fact that i'm never going to be with you.
It makes me put the blade down.
It gets those thoughts out of my head.
The belief that someday life will be sweet again keeps my weary heart beating.
And that hope is going to make me stop doing this to myself.

they tell me to go to school and get good grades
so i get into a good college
to get a good job
to make good money
to get a house in the suburbs
and tell my kids the same thing
but maybe i want to be a starving artist
with nowhere to go but everywhere
to meet new people and see new places
a heart, soul and mind free from the captivity of society
because after all, life is too short to spend it in a neighborhood where every house looks the same and all the people think alike.

I wish you would find a way to get to me.
or maybe i could get to you.
i don't know who you are.
but i know you exist.
im so sad.
but being sad and lonely is worse than being sad.
so i hope we find each other.
so we can hold hands.
so we can be sad together
so we can talk about things that make us happy
so we can heal.
(and maybe order a pizza)

I do love life.
I believe there are so many beautiful things out there.
Like dust in the sunlight,
wildflowers by the sidewalk
or that boy with the dark hair on the train, yesterday.
Children laughing,
people holding doors for others,
saturday mornings.
Life is beautiful.
I just wish
that I
was one of those beautiful things.

I sit in the back of the classroom
by myself
the teacher doesn't remember my name
im the quiet girl people only seem to notice every now and then
i watch the other girls talk about the upcoming weekend
i'm nothing special
im not beautiful
i'm not gifted
i bet God doesn't even know my name
but i'm writing this on this desk so someone knows that i existed.

You said you wouldn't do this to yourself again.
"Be strong," you whisper.
Be strong. But how can you?
Tear by tear you get weaker.
Your scars have healed but here we are again, ready to form new scars.
A new scar for that comment that boy said.
A new scar for that friend that betrayed you.
A new scar for every word you swallow.
Here we are again.
A scene that isn't new to you.
A feeling you know too well.
Here we are again.
You break.
And while your family is asleep, you go back to your old ways.
Here we are again.

You know all the names of the members to your favorite band or how much pimples ****.
You know that John is the cutest guy in school and that you are not the prettiest girl.
You know that your cousin Susie is a snob and that you want to be a journalist when you grow up.
I guess you don't know much at fifteen.
You don't know how bad things are.
You don't know that your best friend has scars on her right thigh.
You don't know that Annie in 3rd period has depression.
You don't know that your uncle is drinking his problems away.
You don't know how hard it is to survive.
You don't know that your mom can't sleep.
You don't know that your dad is trying so hard.
You still won't know at sixteen or seventeen or eighteen but someday you will.
Someday you'll know how bad things are.
But for now, I guess you don't know much at fifteen.