Hey pretty girl,
Who asked you
To take on the world?
They don't know what you've been through
That you had a child
When you were one yourself
You grew up so seamlessly
Even when you got little help.
You work two jobs
Care for the homeless
In the most extreme way.
I have learned more from you
Than I can ever repay.
Still, you never consider yourself
Unlucky or unfortunate.
Just because we are different
Does not mean a thing
People seem to think
That you're beer and I'm champagne
That isn't how it works at all.
My parents say
You've made questionable choices
Like they haven't?
I don't understand
Why money is so important
Just because we come from
Separate sectors of the financial latter
Does not mean
We lack a friendship that matters

Floods of the unforgiving tide
rush in to captivate our feet.
Knee-deep in this hateful sand
we stand, our feet planted firm.
But it was always easier to fall
than to be thrown to the ground.
You were the first one who taught me
just how to be a beautiful fool.

I pretend I do not know what it's like
to grow up with two people
who hurl words like knives
who use their daughter as the scapegoat
for the problems they do not wish to deal with.
They have taught her to conform
but as she refuses
and so, she is tortured emotionally.

For then she hits thirteen
and she is awestruck by some devilish boy
who takes her on her first trip that she experiences
while intoxicated by love.
One of the side effects is blindness.

He knows exactly what she wants to hear
and he sings it to her, ever so delicately.
She will never want to let him go.
As he wraps her around his finger
she begins to see the danger
but she wants nothing more than to indulge.
She loves him, forever and always
and desires, hopes and wants nothing more
than to be his
*beautiful fool.

My heart is
an empty compilation
of veins and arteries.
It is black and cold
and yearns to be healed
but by whom?
I'll tell you the answer
to that secret and unkempt
hole within my chest:
I need you
*to fix me up

He's got me singing love songs, and I never
realized how foreign they became until
I was holding a brush in my hand, half-naked screaming
at the top of my lungs that maybe love is an open door;
an open door without an obstacle screen, and faulty locks.

And when the song ended on a high note, I realized
that I was so used to wallowing in the bass chords
of another sad tune to realize that this door was wide open -
past all the piano acoustics and vocal cracks between sniffles;
past the stressed fermatas and slow tearjerkers while I screamed

Mayday, please do not rain on my Parade again.

And in the first time in a long time, the sun is shining
and he looks at me everyday like you've only done once
or twice. And maybe, just maybe, I'm willing to break
the doorknobs you once taught me how to put together
just to keep this door slightly ajar a little while longer.

gd

She shot for the stars
With her safety on.
Pulled strings of his heart,
Didn't mean no harm.

I can't break out
Of these chains that bind my brokenness
In a straightjacket, I stand
Just waiting for a prognosis.
I cling to anything, everything
I possibly can
As the pieces of my once perfect life
Fall down around me.
Who am I to believe
That I am good enough?
Who am I to believe
That I will make it out of here alive?
So I sit, and I wait, and wait
Staring at the blank wall
I think I am going crazy
But really
I am simply trapped and unmoved
By the holding cell of mental illness.

You tell me
"you can be anything you want to
you have come such a long way
i am so proud of you."
If only you knew the real me.
if only you knew the nights spent
hunched over the toilet, gagging  
curled up in the bath tub, bawling
hacking away
at the skin i wish i could shed.
wavering between
trying everything life has to offer
and completely giving up.
You don't know where i am
or where i have been.
I am wasting that potential
that you have always known
was there.
It is rotting away within me.

Dear me,
It's all your fault.
Stop panicking
About things you can't change.
You're a **** up.
Let the past mistakes be
A map for your future
Not a hindrance.
You'll never be good enough.
You are wonderful
And your eyes shine
More brilliantly than any star.
Your eating disorder has become who you are.
Your name is not bulimia
And addiction is not your address.
You will always be bound to this.
You will overcome all adversity
And live to tell your beautiful story.

From
the real you

Love
The real you