My life as a flower.
I shall wilt in fear.
I grow towards death.
I crumble the fastest.
I die by suicide,
not **** spray.

A day of laughter, excitement fills the air as the cupcake is delivered for that was all they could afford. Sizzling candles, each with a swirl of color, thirteen representing thirteen years of his day of birth. Sad that he shall grow up with little money, yet with a world of kindness, not greed. Happy day for him. A mother cries, as she looks in his eyes to see that he is a teenager, not her little baby. He now is only 7 years from adult hood. He is blessed with a heart of steel, a mind of hope, a graceful mind. "Thank you he says, but ma'am I wan't you to wish in light, and blow the dream to god, for he shall make true." "Oh, honey thank you." She blows out the candles with a tear now on the cupcake. She takes a bite... She smiles "Thank you. I love you" "I love you to ma!" They hug, they smile, they cry. "Happy birthday... I love you..." She whispers then slowly dies in his arms. He knew it, he cried, he forgave the secret she kept. "I love you to" A tear.

I wish to tell you of my past. There is just not enough words. I can't find the right word. Abused, teased, told, ordered. I... My mind is full of words. I can't explain. I wan't to scream. I am alone. I write that in almost every poem. Every poem is my past. Something I don't want to remember. Why must I write out my feelings. This is random. I am sorry. UGH. I have A.D.D. I scream randomly. I cry for no reason. I laugh from at mid sentence. I stutter. I shake, not as a joke, not as a word. I shake. My hands eating, sleeping, typing, reading, writing, everyday, for no reason. I am addicted to monster, coffee, milk. Hey I just realized I am typing my problems. I guess. Oh yeah I have night terrors not night mares, night horrors. My night terrors were terrible HA it's in the name. I would dream of shapes, each shape would have a power. Like a square would control time, and in that time he can ****. I know it sounds stupid. But if something is stupid enough that my eyes open as asleep, screaming -NOT JOKING- and be able to wake up everyone in the household. HA on my birthday do you wanna know what my sister made me, of coarse you do thats why you are reading this. Well she drew shapes with angry faces on them and she taped them on my wall -which I face when I sleep-... When I woke up I screamed and punched a hole in the wall which broke my hand. "Thanks Ash."-sarcasm- Well that was I don't know a while ago, so yeah.

My lackadaisical soul. Very depleted, stale, in which rome the damp, disconsolate rain. Soaking up my clothes, to divulge my skin. Thus laying  motionless, inert. I am drenched. I love it. Being solitary, alone. Better than lied to. I love observing; listening, watching. I am silent, bashful.

A day.
A pill.
A douse.
A new way.
Afraid.
A death.

Always looking.
A god.
A miracle.
A second chance.
A second life.
A halo.
A pair of wings.
A white wonderland.
A beauty.

A tear.
A brother.
A sister.
A mother.
A father.
A family.
A smile.
A laugh.
A happiness.

A cloud.
A rest.
A dream.
A death.
A tear.
A tragedy.
A commotion.
A smile.

A thanks to you.
A thanks to him.
A gift for me.
A gift for you.
A way to say, I miss you.

Good night.
This is the last of me.
Tonight pills.
Tomorrow gone.
More tears.
More smiles.
I am sorry.
I really am.

Right now.
I wish to die.
My future is death.
Why the hell do I write.
There is no point.
I don't know.
I am depressed.
I am sorrow.
I re-write everything,
just in different format.
I don't care.
I won't be missed.
I am not loved.
I write.
I am tired.
I am in pain.
I am sorry.

"But, I thought..."
"HAHAH fat ***, did you really think that anyone would like you. (With a crowd behind her)
"I... I just thought."
"Well you thought wrong *****! AHAH (The whole crowd laughs)"
"But what did I do?"
"You were talking **** about me, yeah he told me, go die you *****! (More laughs from the crowd)"
"No I don't talk about people... I didn't say anything"
"Oh "OK Sure" Yeah go say that you ***. No one likes you. Go **** you're self. HAHA (More)"
She walked out of the girls restroom along with the crowd. Me one the floor crying. I crawl to the nearest stall. I stay there for about 5 minutes. I soak up my tears to accept the fact that I have to go back. In my head I thought take her out, punch her, kick her, DO SOMETHING! I didn't, I wanted to. No cameras in the bathroom. No proof that anything happened that day. I wish I would have fought back. But I was afraid. Lies lead up to this. He told lies. He, she, they, them. Lies.

Ribbon on the floor
I can't take it anymore.
I will never be a prep.
I will never be fake.
I will never be the thing I hate.

Clouds
                                        Released
          Alone
                                                                                           Sun
                                            Moon
                                                                   Aeronautical
  Animate
                                 Dispersed
                                                                                                                Insurmountable
                        Winged

Words have taken over my life. They control me. I am alone. I am afraid. I have been bullied. Years. Beaten with words. Hated with words. Betrayed. Stabbed. Doubt traced it's way to my mind and soul. I am infected. Not loved. Stolen. Taken. Kidnapped. Someone is disturbed by me. I have no friends. I write of sorrow. I am still waking up. My safe place in life is in my music. The only thing I have. What has began. This is a terrible story. This is my life, ******* words, the thing suffocating me is my life, how pathetic. No self control. No risk's to take. No way of living. Everything written by me is disgrace to others. Shocking. "Wow, what a brilliant mind she has. She needs to be more happy though." Shut up, I will not change. Not for anyone. This is me, don't like it then don't read it. Don't ******* judge me just by looks. I am tired of hatred remarks from ones inner opinion. Cussing. Screaming. Last year, I got picked on the bus, like every single day. That one day I had enough crap from the girls at school. One guy sad the last thing and I snapped. I cried I showed him that I have a weakness, that I am weak. I still cry. When I got home that day I through my bag in the middle of the street, screaming, cussing. One true friend standing next to me telling me "Amber, it is going to be OK," Giving me hugs. While my other "friend" says, and I quote. "Amber you shouldn't put you're bag there" Then she walk the rest of the way home. I ran to my house, bag still on the street. I lock myself in the bathroom screaming, and cutting. Blood on my wrist. Tears on my face. He did it, they have done it. "ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!" Still screaming. I never speak my mind. I don't tell my feelings. Every night I cry. Every ******* night. Go ahead think that this is for the views. It's not. It is not a lie. This is real. I am real. They are fake. The words now are just mixed up. I scream, I cry. I cry, I scream. I am crying as I am typing. I just. I don't know anymore. I am just here. You are just there. We are apart. You may not understand. You may relate. I am sorry if you can. But this is one little part of my story... Welcome to my life.

To me a Dandelion is not only a ****, killed, hated, yet god's prayers, for every wish to become true. Yet a beautiful sprung grown, flower wanting to be a rose, but accepting the fact that being a Dandelion is good.

My body is still. I enjoy the air. I live out the freedom in the moment. My chest up, down; breath after breath. Dress flowing with the wind. My bare feet, toes twine with the grass. The water at the end of the cliff bouncing off the dirt forming an army of waves, a battle. The moon center of my view, my mind. I am at peace. I am fearless. I am home.

I am done with life. I hate myself. I hate people. I want the sweet sent of suicide to rome amongst my feet. I feel of no place for me to be in. I am a disturbance.
How can I be so ugly in and out. I don't fit in. I am bullied. I am abuse with sounds and fists. I am alone. No one can relate. I am stuck.
I mustn't talk, no, not a sound. It's a sin if expressed. I am the passage way to depression, enjoy the ride while you can. I am sorrow. I am me, the worst to be.
Why must I be alone? What did I do? Well I can't complain, if god did this then what is he to be of heaven. God is the root to all evil. Well in my world he is. Believe and are betrayed.
I don't understand my meaning of life. Why must you drop me from heaven if so then why thee others gracefully down. I hate how I am separate from myself. The different views. The world is a dark place. I feel of nothing to be cheerful of. I am my only friend.
Most of you think, wow, great writing. These are my feelings. This poem is my mind. The only way I can communicate to any other is this, yet they read and just continue life without a doubt, while I am still right here. What have I become, a monster, a guesser.

A ancient man of up to date, in search for his rugous body to expire. Very sapient, in a low spoken tone. Blackening, lusterless, tone of green eyes hazed behind his glass dome to in which seeks a luminous view. Thus being no longer youthful, such man twas engraved as my forefather.
  Tis of thy ancestor hair a majestic, ash, of none of thee less than one inch grown out of his marble shaped, sphere, crown. Scars are thee faded memories, thus he shall not keep them in mined nor heart.

In a life time I wont do as expressed ,yet I remain to feel faint. A world of sorrow; regret is what I live by. Sunshine rises for everyone to hide in the dark shade and let there wants lift, as others needs fade. My life as a view to others is a sad, melancholy, very dark life to live. Of coarse I won't live my life out to the fullest, because i'm afraid of the people in the journey of a life time.