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Anna Sep 2014
Trust me i know how to yell, you taught me very well,
But this is merely speaking

I thought if I screamed you'd finally
Hear me when I say I want to cry until we’re floating in the Dead Sea
And my heart no longer curses me with the density to sink

I thought you might feel the teeth gnawing inside
These bones, these veins
Ripping my heart and destroying my brain
But of course you didn't, I've done this since I was five

Im trying to escape this catastrophe,
But you coerce until my original thoughts become extinct
Hear me when i say i want to shriek until my reflection shatters
And my soul can equally and oppositely be repaired
Someday i hope my insides can scream as loud as they desire
When ill no longer live under your pharisaical empire

Trust me i know how to yell, you taught me very well
But this is nowhere near
  May 2014 Anna
"Ha Ha! did some kid really get a 37 on the test? Good luck to that guy."

Hi, I'm Miss 37 on a Recordkeeping test
yet I ingest, more natural intelligence,
from my morning spinach-strawberry-banana smoothie;
than I do from eating your face off.

Haley, restrain, breathe, write.

I score more points when I invest
every spastic ounce of energy into calming down.
Plastic expectations don't deserve
my jolted, steaming, red in the face nerves.
My teacher and I know I haven't earned
below a 70 yet this year.

Two Years ago I was buried  myself beneath enough mulch
I could barely emit muffled noises;
let alone offer proposes of how far the stick up your *** is.
Drowning in every pound of self destruction
I erupted volcanos, melted my mother's heart.
Struggled, mulligrubbed with my own monsters.
Finally, I emerged from the dirt, blooming,
fueled by the passion for life that consumed me.
My roots hardened into knotted salvations;
Pursuit of curiosity, to never stop asking questions.
Passionate relationships, with equal give and take and
Intrigue in the new and altruistic.

I never asked to be a statistic
among American teens who pursue the American Dream.
Surviving a full year in high school is enough
to satify my pride.
A 37 is nothing to hide
so say it louder man-boy.
Straighten your spine on that testosterone pedestal.
Good luck out there, I hope you catch em all!
I'll be gazing at the sky, a piece of advice?
Always keep your ears open, Always keep your eyes wide.
Anna May 2014
There’s too much inside me that I don’t want in me anymore

And every time you raise your voice or I think about this summer the back of my throat starts to burn and I clench my teeth so hard they have cracked. And that’s why I’ve been to the dentist 5 times this year and my jaw is out of alignment.

Breaking your arm is a little more evident than re-shattering your self-esteem everyday but if you look at a person long enough you can see the pools fill up beneath their eyes only to quickly evaporate. You’ll eventually recognize how well they contain those currents.
Anna Apr 2014
They say mind over matter as if it is a good thing
As if it is a good thing that my mind is taking over my body
As if it is a good thing that my mind moves my mouth to say things I don't want to
As if it's a good thing that my mind gets so cluttered I can't even see straight
As if it's a good thing that my hands move to hit when I don't want to
Or when I can't even leave my bed even though I have a thousand things to do
Or when I start shaking uncontrollably, like the heart within me has cracked down the middle and shifted out of place like tectonic plates
When my mind turns me into a walking earthquake, HOW is that ok?!
They say mind over matter as if its OKAY for me to still cry about things that don't matter
As if it's ok for Ruby Sparks to snap her fingers and bark like a dog
My mind is not a sacred pure place, it it is dark and angry
I can't change it so easily because controlling the thing that is in control is more complex than you think
I control my arms with my brain, I control my mouth with my brain, I control my legs with my brain
but how can i control my brain with my brain
I did some frantic writing in the woods today. God this is awful. I'll work on it.
Anna Feb 2014
I read somewhere the other day that small talk keeps the brain sharp,
So that's probably why I'm stupid  
But I don't understand the fascination in needing a vacation and the weather, or where you bought your brand new ******* sweater.
I'm sorry I can't participate in your name brand conversation, but talking about your Michael khors watch just seems like such a bore.

What I really want to ask you is:
Have you ever screamed your lungs out on the top of a mountain?
Or have you ever tried to drown yourself in the shallow waters of a fountain,
Have you ever watched the sun spit out pieces of gold on a quiet little creek?
Tell me all the things that used to make you feel unique.
When was the last time you felt whole inside?
When was the last time you blatantly lied?
Who do you want to fall asleep next to every night?
Tell me what you think about our nation's lack of human rights.
How many weekends can you go not being sober?
Tell me what you really think about the boy who ******* you over.
Why are you so afraid?
Do you fear you'll explode like a grenade?
I feel like that sometimes.
But I know I'll never get anywhere if I hold it all inside

But your mother told you always be polite,
And never bother anyone with their personal insight
Religion, and politics, don't ask too much
For everyone may get into a fuss
So everyone walks around talking about things that don't matter,
With worlds as shattered as a broken wedding platter
Everyone wants to talk about what's on the outside, but some fear holds back the depths of our soul.
And finally when you're six feet under, you'll realize you've just been digging your own hole
And maybe I'm not sad, I'm just overly enthusiastic about things that no one else is. And all these things everyone gets so excited about make me angry, and then the people even make me angry. They always talk about unimportant things and it makes me feel so distant and far away.
I know I'm not much different from you, we're made out of all the same types of cells making up such different brains with different opinions and priorities. But we have the same feelings. Deep deep down you know what it's like to be lonely. I wish we could talk about life and the universe together but you act like you're a monogram on a fancy *** t-shirt. You're not a name shared with 2 million other people. You are a soul. We're all just people and that's the greatest thing we've come across as a species, and although we're pretty awful, we're also pretty wonderful. We need to get to know EACH OTHER, not these material things that can be lost and stolen and broken. YOU can be lost and broken and stolen too but let's prevent that by saying a little more than "small talk".
Anna Feb 2014
We're all in the business of denying our faults and justifying out sins.
Ignorance is bliss and I fear that I am ignorant, somehow missing out on the bliss.
What a pathetic way to be.
I'll never admit we may be wrong for each other, and I want to justify my dishonesty along with severing out the pits of my stomach. Maybe that will keep the nausea away. I'm awfully confused and I fear it won't get any better,
I'm feeling more hopeless and even more bitter
I often feel terrified even to move,
As I sit shaking in a ball praying to improve.

But it seems my life is built on empty prayers
Begging for things to get better, but knowing deep down that I'm doomed
I know I've forgotten how to pray, as if I was ever taught how to properly.
I was accidentally taught how to hate, instead of how to love.
If god wanted to help me, he would've by now.

I'm not depressed, I'm just a teenager
I'm not sad, this is just human nature
I'm not depressed, I'm just selfish
I'm not suicidal, death is merely a wish
I'm not depressed, I'm just weak
I'm not self-loathing, I just need some critiques

But what do you do when your own family makes you want to die?
And you deny your depression until it eats you alive?
Struggling to get out screaming, "cry, cry, I want you to die!"
I really shouldn't be crying right now, it's so inappropriate
"Stop crying Anna, you're so immature! When are you going to grow up?"
I thought maybe if I screamed then you would finally hear me
I thought you might feel the teeth gnawing inside
These bones, these veins
Ripping my heart and destroying my brain
But of course you didn't, I've done this since I was five

I'm a hurricane of paranoia and anger
A storm that needs to be calmed before demolishing everything it comes in contact with
So implant a grenade in my cerebrum
Splatter paint your walls with it
Cut me down the middle and sever out my liver
Sink me down into the river
why do i **** at this
Anna Jan 2014
Its only 12:42 and I've woken myself up five times by asking where i am
Every place that should feel like home petrifies me
You say I'm spoiled and you don't think i give a ****,
But it's not that I'm ungrateful,
It's just that I'm dead
I try to say thank you, but my voice is too small
My throat becomes a vortex,
Stealing the words my lips long to spit out
Leaving my mouth an empty drought

Sitting still in hopes the cinder block will migrate to the rest of my body,
Wishing i would turn to stone
I feel so fragile every time you speak,
As if my bones and destined to one day turn to glass
And why am i awake if sleep is for the weak?

My heart is an earthquake, my whole body's shaking furiously
Ripping my insides apart laboriously
I try so hard to find my brain and put it back in place
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