The water drips from the faucet
As the worries fade from my mind

I rest my head on the back of the tub.
My heart sooths down to a murmur,
Not heard above the humming of the radiator.

This is wonderful,
Pure bliss without a worry on my mind.

The water stings against my body
As the heat turns my skin scarlet,
But it doesn't concern me.

I sink further under water.
This is relaxatio-

"Hurry up in there!
I need to take a shower.
And don't use all the hot water."

Well, ****.

Reading through my oldest poetry
That have only been seen by my eyes
Has got to be the worst thing I can do.

Old memories and thoughts renew themselves
In fresh tears and breath capturing sobs

Where was I when I wrote those?
What kind of hell was that girl suffering?
And why was there no help then?

They give me a reason to fight further into the fire
And let the flames of pain and rage lick my veins
Until my skin sizzles and pops.

They started the heat, of course,
But the fuel is all my doing, my head,
It is what makes me worse.

The heart clenching coldness
The part of me that needs the fire, the burning,
To make me feel warm again.

It is makes the numb dwindle away,
That started from no understanding in the West
And the unjust judgement in the East.

So douse me in your words
And set me afire with a nudge and a push.
Then, watch me grow and thrive amongst the flames.

Do you feel it?
That satisfaction
You get from
Your petty affairs?

Those ugly names
Those nasty taunts
Those stupid jabs
At my mind and heart

Yes? Ha, how did I know it?
Was it the way you smirked?
Or was it the way your friends 
Had laughed, giving you the 
Approval you starved for?

Do you feel guilt for the comments
You made about me and everyone
You thought had a low enough
Self esteem to actually listen
To the petty little comments?

No? I'm right agains? Tell me, how am I so good at it?
At telling that you have no remorse for what you do
And say? It is as if you feel like one day, one boring
Day in the middle of school, your kingdom, your antics
Will pay off. Well, it's your turn to take a guess. Do you 
Really think it makes you seem better? Yes? Well,

How the **** does that make any sense? Are you really 
Low enough that this makes you feel good about yourself 
And that twisted heart thump-thumping in your chest? 
Does making other kids question their bodies and 
Lifestyles make you feel like your own is so much better?
Yes again? Oh, my dear, how ignorant you have to be. 

You are so wrong; it's disappointing. This behavior only pushes us to the top. Yeah, 
Us. I mean myself and those other 'ugly, stupid, ******, slutty, ghetto, freaks'. 
We grew our shells to shield from your words. Those shells will never crack, but you? 
You have nothing but the names that spew from your mouth like from a fountain, 
But every well dries out. What do you do then? Move on? Become a better person? 
Make new friends and settle down? Have kids only for them to turn out just like you? 
Yeah, right. I wish you the best of luck, you fake, overrated *****. I am done with your ****.

See, the difference between you and I, is that when I call you a pretentious *****,
I have a reason. You tear at a person's self esteem until you see your victim bleed 
On the inside and out. You're sadistic and greedy. You want all the pain you can 
Get out of others. Me, though, I call you a ***** because that is what I see. An infected 
Dog looking for something to bite and pass your symptoms on to. You know, that 
Bitterness you cause wherever you go, almost like the Midas Touch. How about the
***** Bite? Come on, bully. What are you going to do next? Hurt my feeling? I dare you.

Because I have strength now. Strength in my heart that I never had. Strength in my mind that I Didn't know was there before. Strength in my confidence that you jump started. I guess I Should thank you, then. For all the teeth grinding moments that I wanted nothing more than To snap back, but my attitude had not yet developed. Now, I am not afraid to do it. To snap at You and tell you back off. I will, and you still may find flaws to push me down with, but I will Always get up from the dirt and fight back. I will never give in to you. No, never. Remember This now, and remember this later when You decide I'm not enough like a 'perfect' Barbie doll, I will always be strong enough to fight back. I found confidence in anger. I found courage in sorrow. I found a reason to fight in your wicked grin. Thanks, I guess.

Laying flat on the shadowed ground
Of the meadow that holds my sanity, 
I stare up into the glistening moon
As it glances upon the wet tree tops.

The grass scraping the back of my neck 
Begins to freeze to that of an iceberg 
With the cool crisp wind 
With the shivering leaves.

My mind begins to wonder from my surroundings
To what clenches my heart at night, 
To the devils that tore me down,
To the angels that tried hard to fix me.

My thoughts numb as if from the temperature,
Sending tingles up my spine
And horror into my mind
As all feeling ceases to exist. 

A rapid breath escapes my chapped lips.
A rapid breath like the harsh wind
Now whipping through the lonely willow,
The one weeping loudly by my side.

The sky turns into a black mess,
Flipping from its once clear blue state.
Blinding lines fill the sky,
Imitating the roots of a flower.

But it is not a delicate flower.
It is destruction
As it hits the shaking tree,
Forcing it to crash onto the once sunny meadow.

It hits the dancing grass
With a bang and a thud,
But not before the scream,
My scream, escapes from my throat.

I do not fear for my life here; I fear for the willow.
The willow that is so much like my beaten heart,
The willow that I care about more then the voices 
In the forest behind me that command me to run.

Getting on my knees,
I crawl across the mud
Until I reach the dying willow
That rests surrounded by clanging lights.

Stroking the trunk of the tree, 
I let out a sob that catches in my tight throat.
The willow's brittle bark crumbles as I touch it,
Leaving a brown dust on the tips of my fingers.

With blurred sight, I search the tree.
I search it for any sign of life.
One lone catkin hangs from the side of a branch;
I reach for it with my stained hand.

Delicately, I wind my fingers around the dry flower.
Smiling down at the last thing to bloom from the ****** willow,
I pluck it from the branch and stare at the storm above my head.
I start to wonder what the thundering storm meant.

Tightening my sweaty palm, I crush the catkin.
I crush it with resent and a need for revenge.
Revenge for my ****** willow;
The one that will never return to health.

Angry crying and
Something tying.
Sad eyes and
Unrecognized.
Blurred sight and
Diming light.
Clenching heart and
It won't restart.
Tight fists and
Empty wrists.
Dead thoughts and
Rope knots.
Headache and
Still awake.
Tense neck and
I'm a wreck.
Loose tongue and
Still so young.

The dull knife sitting at the bottom of the ***** sink,
Whispering light promises into my ear,
Come dear; hold me close.
I promise I'll go away.

The bitter razor sitting by the grimy bath tub,
Hissing orders from across the room,
Come dear; grip me tight.
I promise I'll go away.

The edges of my mind,
Growling in its gruff voice,
Come dear; listen close.
I promise they know best.

But I don't grasp the sharp objects,
With my shaky fingers.

Instead, I claw at my arms and legs,
At my neck and wrists,
Wanting to just reach forward,
And quiet the angry voice telling me,
Come dear; don't be ignorant.
*Fingernails don't do enough damage.

A young writer filled with her inner fights.
A youth that tried to see the shining lights.
A teen with thoughts hidden by a large mask,
Who kept it bottled in a metal flask
To keep distance with what causes sorrow
And to open her eyes for tomorrow.
A child that hoped for good in the world.
The butterflies in her stomach whirled.
The blood in her veins slowed until it stopped.
And for the last time, her eyes dropped.
So she did what anyone may commend,
Preparing a phrase that would be the end
Of which she was ready to now say aloud.
Then dying, floating until she reached clouds.