She battles her demons, day in, day out.
They don’t stay quiet, they scream and shout.
They tell her she’s ugly, they tell her she’s fat.
Her thighs are too big and her stomach’s not flat.
She starves herself but that’s not enough.
This desire to be thin has proven to be tough.
It’s making her miserable, it’s making her sad.
The quicker the weight loss, it won’t be as bad.
But the weight is staying and it won’t disappear.
She’s taking it to the extreme
And she’s making it clear
That she wants to be thin
And thin she will be.
But what you don’t know is that girl is me.

She kissed me
not because
she wanted to
but because
she could.

We fell in
love.
Not because
we could
but because
we wanted to.

We made
mistakes.
Not because
we wanted to
but because
we could.

We thought
we were
perfect.
Not because
we could
but because
we wanted to.

I vomited in
the bathroom
of a
Baltimore
7-11
because
sometimes
you cannot
hold it in
much
longer.

Her hands shook
as she held her
mirror
because
sometimes
your reflection
can only
tell you
so much.

My body shook.
Her body stiff.
And when
the bodies
move
the hearts
stop.

She lied some.
I drank words.
The veins
in hands
are maps
to imagined
consciousness.

Really,
it's just
a
*******
*****.

Music to
my ears.
Nervousness
between
blinks.
Noise to
my brain.

She said,
"I love you"
not because
she wanted to
but because
she could.

I said,
"I love you, too,"
not because
I could
but because
I wanted to.

All these lemons
But my lemonade stil tastes like ****

They looked at her
With disgust in their eyes.
"She's an artist" they said
But she could not disguise,
The pain she dealt with
Every night at home.

Her mother was working
And her father wasn't involved,
She kept slipping away to the voices,
Listening to their every sound.

And then he came.

He looked at every imperfection,
And saw the beauty in her.
He admired every piece if artwork,
By paint brush and blade.
She never failed to impress a crowd,
By people or demons.

But, not all stories have a happy ending.
For he left,
And so did she.

They say that a preacher's daughter
is the most rebellious, immoral.
Daddy raised me to be a good girl.
To believe in God and to be wholesome.
I grew up in a strict household.
Don't make the preacher look bad.
Well, I stopped believing in god,
and I broke under the pressure
of the high moral standards.
The preacher doesn't take kindly
to his little girl forsaking his god.
The preacher's daughter
isn't so chaste anymore.

I don't know
how to write poems

What I write
Is nothing
But ugly pieces of me..

You're shy,
It's a fact.
But all that shyness comes tumbling down
In the face of a just cause.
You're not afraid to stand for what's right.

You're a badass, like Grey Fullbuster but in real life of course.
Loving that adrenaline rush,
The way I love it when you send me the sweetest messages.
You're so similar to Grey, Syaoran, or Kyon, or even L, it's quite bizarre really.

You can make me smile and laugh and giggle like an idiot in public.

You are so unbelievably sweet.
You care so much about others,
Protecting your friends always, 'til the very end.
You would do anything for us,
And I'll do anything and everything for you in return.
But I don't think I can ever do enough to show you my gratitude and appreciation,
How glad I am to have you in my life.

The much appreciated way that you can actually hold up a conversation,
And put in your share of the friendship,
Not leaving me to hold up everything and hoping on impossible dreams.

The way you run around my mind like those ***** in a pinball machine that you run back and forth, back and forth.
-flicks my own head and yells at you to stop running around up there so much-

There are so many sides to you...
You're like the color red,
So many shades,
All different,
With different meanings,
Emotions,
Actions.
Well it's a good thing I love the color red,
'Cause I want to get to know every shade of you, and love each and every one of them, the way I love you as a whole.