I wonder what you think
when you see a spinning
woman.

A woman wearing
dark colors and bright tights
and tutus.

A woman who hides
herself in what she
doesn't wear.

A woman who shows
who she is in what
she spins in.

I wonder what you think
when you see a woman spinning
and that woman is me.

From Head to Toe my body speaks
or rather, screams.
My purple hair says, “I am unique!”
while my soul whispers, “At least, I’m trying to be.”
Blue eyes full of stars yell, “I am beautiful!”
while my heart whispers, ”I don’t believe that, but I want to.”
This body covered in scars screams, ”I have problems!”
while the clothes I wear contradict, ”I have my life together.”
Scars on my shin shout, ”I’ve had fun, fallen, and gotten back up!”
while the skin underneath mutters, ”It wasn’t my choice.”
Painted toes holler, ”I want someone to notice me!”
while my mind breathes, ”No I don’t.”
From Head to Toe my body screams
and believes in something
that I do not.

Trapped.
In a |C|E|L|L|
of bRoKeN words
and darkened love.
Punching.
CRUMBling walls
and shatterproof windows.
I’ve been convicted.
GUILTY.
Life sentence with no parole.

______________
|             I           |
|         was          |
|         framed      |
______________

Pl­ease.
I don’t want to die here.

If I show you these scars what will you think?
The purple ones on my thigh,
the thin pink ones on my stomach,
the thick, raised ones on my arm,
and the small red ones on my wrist.

If I tell you the reasons what will you say?
The self hatred in my heart,
the numb feelings in my soul,
the racing thoughts in my head,
and the moving fingers of my hand.

If I ask you to love me will you tell the truth?
If I ask myself to love me will I tell the truth?
In the end will I go back to what I know?
In the end will I go back to the blades who hold my heart?
The blades who have hold of my soul?

I’ve drawn a heart upon my arm.
I do not cause my body harm.
There’s laughter just lodged in my throat.
Which helps me sing a cheerful note.
I’d love a significant other.
So that I can become a mother.
I want some children, two or three.
Maybe a baby on top of a tree.
I can live in the country side.
With no need to travel worldwide.
Everyday there will be a blue sky.
Except for the fact that every word has been a lie.

I did it again.
I broke my will.
With a broken razor and fallen blades.
Tools to cut leg hair made into small knifes.
Cutting into skin again and again.
Until the blood stops to pool and starts to drip into a river.
Watch it flow, hold a tissue so as not to ruin the rug.
Stained tissue, bright red.
Next to pink skin surrounding puffed, red, marks.
Wipe it up and clean it up.
Make it so I don’t have to go to the Doctor.
Infection, such a needy *****.
All done, but don’t pull out bandaids.
The wrappers will yell the story to mom.
Mom will tell dad, and together they will offer support.
Support from family members who don’t understand.
Who are sad when I need ice to control my urges.
Why would I let them know that it didn’t work?
That in the pretend safety of the bathroom, I went from diving to cutting.
In just a few seconds.

I write to you,
my little friend,
to tell me what to do.

Asking questions
that go so deep
I cannot reach them without you.

Finding answers
in the cave
with darkness seeping through.

You smile as you answer
the payment
of my soul is due.

Demon friend in my soul
living off my fear,
molding me to statue.

For as I listen
you tell me lies
that come out of my view.

My little friend,
how do you dare
to tell the tried and true.

The pain of truth
and hidden lies
leave me a residue.

There's a little saying,
"The grass is greener, on the other side."
You tell me this with a brick wall between us.
My side has some grass but it's dead and covered with weeds.
You tell me your side has grass that's green,
And even flowers and some trees.

You tell me this by yelling;
Your words going up and over the wall.
At my feet are pieces of wood to build myself a ladder.
Your words, they are convincing, so I start to work.
It's hard and new but you keep saying,
"The grass is greener here."

You make it sound so wonderful, to be in a place so clean.
But what it takes to get there is something you cannot see.
I'm working on the ladder when I hear a distant clap.
You yell to me, "It's still green here!"
But I can't see the grass you stand on, I only see the storm.

I need to climb the wall to get to a better place.
The sky may be blue and sunny,
But there are storms that come
Where the sky is black and rain comes down.
And I can't see the greener grass
you say is under your feet.
I only see the sky.

Decorated trees in living room windows,
Plastic Santa and Reindeers littering the yard,
Lights round the bushes outside.
Driving by all these houses turned homes,
I’m forced to see the joy of the holidays.

I wish I could say
What it's really like in here
The dark of my mind.

I'm willing to go back in time
to the place where I was hurt
and tell you of the feelings
that you caused inside my heart.

I'm willing to talk to you
of changes of my life
that made me go from hate
to a person who wants to try.

I'm willing to tell you of the
memories you don't even know
the ones that are truth to me
and prevented my trust in you.

I'm willing to speak of the hold
you will always have on me
even after ten years have gone
I see you and wish for the past.

I want to tell you all of this
to try and get away
so I can move and fall in love
without you in my head.

I wish I could explain it better
these jumbled thoughts in my heart
so you could understand
how much I want to move away.

I wish I could tell you
that moving away from you
isn't a bad thing
but something we both need.

I know we've never stopped
I know we've always cared
but how are we supposed to find
another love when our hearts are still intwined?

“**** this ******* ****,”
is my favorite saying;
****, it is simple.

If I have a significant other,
how will I tell them about my problems?

Starting the conversation about
scars
that are all over my body.
Will they be able to love it?

The conversation about
mental illness
that takes over my soul.
Will they be able to love me?

If I have a significant other,
how will they accept me
for who I am now,
and who I once was?

Grey clouds before an autumn rain
sail in my blue-eyed view.
Cold air before a winter storm
filters through my lungs.
Sitting on this felled log
lingering with the trees.
Just waiting for the shift in seasons
to change the dance from rain to flakes.

Nouns, verbs, even slang.
Many ways to say the word.
How do you use “****”?

I walk to nowhere
                                                         ­                        in particular;

walking through my mind to my soul.
I find darkened, thorny paths
used by demons                                                           ­           
and bright, soft paths
                                                           ­       used by angels.

-
But I take none.
-

I forge my own path through
thorns                                                   ­                   
and
                                                            ­                meadows
creating a newer journey
that none have seen
to an end that I could never
                                                           ­       believe.

~Except~

-
I made it there.
-

To an end with crystal waterfalls
running to a see through pond.
No dirt but gems, winking at the sky.
Surrounded by benches of willing trees
and boulders
waiting for a climb.

Roses dancing through the grasses,
                                                        ­       fallen petals form the road
thorny stems weaving protection,                                                      ­
walling in my peace.

If you find me then you will see
                                                  me sitting in the shade
                                                        or swimming in the water
                                                         or climbing on my friends.

-
Here.
-

You will find me
all alone                                          
in the place
                                    I want to be.

You ask, “What’s depression like?”

He says, “It’s like drowning. Except you can see everyone around you breathing.”
She says, “It’s like you are screaming as loud as you can, and no one can hear.”
They say, “In your perception of the world around you, it’s always cloudy.”

And it is all true.
Except when it’s not.

Except when it’s living in a body that has been taken over by a black, sluggish monster.
Except when it’s seeing the colors of the world and not comprehending the color.
Except when it’s your favorite food and pushing the plate away because you don’t deserve it.
Except when it’s an hourly battle between yourself and yourself.
Except when it’s a daily war between yourself and your reflection.
Except when it’s always feeling sad and not being able to explain why.
Except when it’s feeling nothing and doing nothing and being expected to explain why.

It is all true.
Except when it’s not.

Because depression is something that cannot be explained.
Only felt.

If you understood
the hatred I hold inside
would you still love me?

If you saw my skin
with purple, red, and pink scars
would you still love me?

I cut up myself,
do you still love my body?
Do you still love me?