"An american nightmare, I'd rather be dead."

She was sleeping in her bed, mind
racing with dreams,
thoughts clouding her small mind
her sleep drowning in the beginning of
a nightmare
die,* the voices whispered, waking her her petite ears that are
adorned with the two diamond hearts her
mother bought her for christmas last year
no one wants you here, a spirit shrieks, evading her 2 am distraction, making
her small body jump in fear
you can't live like this, her parents, teachers, new therapists have said to her
seek help, dear, they continued to preach, throughout adolescence
though not realizing she was drowning in her own voice,
her threatening mind
after days, weeks, months, she couldn't
think any more good because it was instantly
covered by her own horrid thoughts
so instead of writing or singing, she
turned to another helper, a monster
of it's own.

...the blade cut her skin, the razor
made the panic disappear and
the voices fade
for just a few moments, that was all she needed
it left her skin with a tingle, a
fiery touch nothing like she
had ever felt before
one Night particularly her father
had sought solace in alcohol that sunday evening
and instead of
keeping quiet to himself, only drown his sorrows of the day
insults, words not of endearment, were spat her way
worthless, *****, suicidal freak, *****
all that were echoes from her weeks at that prestigious, expensive private school
her parents had thrown money at
because she wasn't grotesque or proletariat to even be seen in 'public schools'
and instead of voicing concern over her distraught father
she calmly stepped into her small, cozy bedroom
adorned with every expensive thing she desired
and she grabbed her blade and cut just a touch deeper,
a smidge further,
a small bit sharper than before.
Now she lays sleeping with a gravestone at her head
that reads her name
and no nightmares to cloud her young mind anymore
however, she hadn't realized that her nightmares
did not go away,
rather,
they were left back on earth
with her loved ones as their newly sought homes.

We've probably spoken four words aloud since
we met and you
probably couldn't recall my name if you tried
And although you're gone physically
somehow I can still feel you here, inside
And that thought, that you could somehow
appreciate me both helps and haunts my mind
I know we had our differences
And i'm too fearful to start a conversation but from what i've
heard your friend say to me
my feelings were probably matched by you
unfortunately, i'll never know because
like I said i'm
frightened i'll be utterly wrong
and left hanging for everyone to see on
a noose in my own bedroom
I literally cannot go one day without
wishing to see you smiling, and
talking with your friends
or even waving at me, like that one instance in the school halways
after my religion class
but then you would go home, we wouldn't talk at all
and I'd be left to go to a horrible science class
to think about "What if?"