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Christina Cox Dec 2015
There are times I lie to others.
About being happy and okay.
There are times I lie to myself.
About being okay and happy.

But there are also times I do not lie.

Times I do not lie to others.
About being okay and happy.
Times I do not lie to myself.
About being happy and okay.

But those times do not come often.

I would be lying if I didn’t say that
I lie more often than I tell the truth.
I just wish that when I told the truth
people around would believe me.

Just like I believe myself in those moments.

Of course, how can they believe me
when they know I lie more often than not?
But it does not help when they never believe me.

I just want someone to validate the truth
that there are days where I am happy
that there are days where I am okay.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Good and Bad lined up by the fence.
Teams leaders pick and choose,
a few of each on every side.
Hit and run, catch and throw.
Crushing grass and flowers as they fight.
Throwing insults and taunts to create mistakes.
Week after week the teams mix and play again.
Different winners every time take over the field.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
My mom is snoring,
thirteen stairs and ten feet away.
My mom is peaceful,
thirteen stairs and ten feet away.

My dad is watching,
seven stairs and fifteen feet away.
My dad is learning,
seven stairs and fifteen feet away.

I am sitting,
on the floor against a trunk.
I am crying,
on the floor agains a trunk.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
These medications make my emotions hazy.
An inversion in Salt Lake, Utah occurs in my mind.
The surrounding mountains of guilt and shame
create the perfect bowl for smog to stay.
Hiking up peaks to view the city lights
and instead I see halos of gold through fake fog.
Back down to a car that swerves through canyons
while going just slow enough to see the road’s edge.
Walking up and down the streets no one can tell
of the poison we all breathe in together.
Utah, a happy place, where strangers smile at each other
and try to force themselves to believe that they are not fake.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Feel the dull but sharp, pins and needles pain of new cuts.
The worst is on my hips, a new place for this ****** up girl.
I see the cuts on my arm, the checkerboard I’ve created out of skin.

Would you like to play chess with me?

The deep and wide cut created from needed control of the cutting.
I feel the words carved into my body, the new one on my stomach, “****.”
All the words are true.
All the words are true.

All of these **** words are true.

Cutting.
            The release of emotions,
                   The control of emotions,
                           The object of emotions.

So many reasons and so many stories.

Carved into my body.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Sleep: Day. Wake/Eat: Night.
Christina: Tail, Whiskers: Cat.
Curled up, human love.
I really want to be a cat.
Christina Cox Feb 2016
One day I’ll take a picture.
Of myself.

Or you will take that picture.
And it will be of me.

This picture won’t be pretty.
No matter how hard I try.

This picture will have features
That I’ve always tried to hide.

One day there’ll be a photo
Of me sitting down.
Holding out my arms for you
And showing all my thighs.

A photo of myself
And all I’ve ever hated.

The photo of the day I say,
“I’m proud of where I’ve been.”
“I’ve won the war I’ve been in.”
Christina Cox Apr 2016
And for some odd reason she hasn't had her coffee

                                                         ­                   And for some strange reason
                       she's hanging upside down

                                                                     And if for some little particle of time you see her right side up

                      Tell her hi for me and give her this little bitty cup
Christina Cox Jan 2016
I hate the way I always try.
And the way I almost cry.
I hate the feelings never shown.
And the ones that are never even known.
I hate the lies I tell myself.
And the ones I put up on the shelf.
I hate the lies that I tell you.
And the way that I have run you through.
I hate the way I want to die.
And the way that feeling can intensify.
But most of all I hate the way
I want to change and always delay.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
My parents say things;
My friends, they say other things;
And I don’t listen.

Mom says she loves me.
Julia asks to hang out.
Dad holds me tightly.

I do not listen.
I cannot hear what they say.
I can’t feel their love.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
“I live in a constant state of maybe next week.”
He was talking about cash and change,
money being tight
worrying about what will come.
Will he be able to eat?

But the words I hear speak in different shapes.
Talking of energy and motivation
that does not exist in this stupid body.
The way I say, “Let’s hang out next week.”
To cancel with my best friend.
Hoping for new energy to appear
in the seven days I wait.
Christina Cox Aug 2016
On the wall, right there,
Hang windows for all to see
Of past memories.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Words are written
with rhythm and the brain.
We type and write
our thoughts and feelings
just to release a little bit of pain.
Self pain or others
it really doesn’t matter.
Words are easy with good inspiration.
The hard part is the name.
The way it works when I wrote poems.
Christina Cox Feb 2016
I feel the weight on my shoulders.
So I hide under the table.
Let the wood take the crushing world.
And allow me time to sleep.
Lie down on the shaggy floor.
While the makeshift roof is cracking.
Melt into the floor for once.
Becoming something new.
No longer am I human
But a part of something bigger.
My body has disappeared
From the harmful world.
There is no more crushing
The world cannot find me anymore.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
To feel safe inside my body
would be a blessing amid the curse.
To keep my body safe from harm
would be a glorious change.
To find a way to stop the war
from taking over mind and soul.
To take away the blades
that have taken hold of my soul.
To be free of the curse
that lays in wait inside my heart.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Sitting next to me
Licking up tears among fur.
Well, she is a cat.
Christina Cox Jan 2016
Let me tell a story
about the fox on my wall.
Lighting up my words
and following my movements.
Whispering happy thoughts
about meetings and love.
Shaking out his bushy tail
to comfort me in anxiety.
He comes to life at night
when I need him most.
He sleeps during the day
when I am gone.
At least I think he sleeps
The little fox keeps me company
when I just want to be alone.
He smiles when I cry
and cries when I'm in pain.
The fox is my friend
who knows what I need.

**And he's a ******* nightlight.
Christina Cox Sep 2016
I'm at war with myself
Duck! and cover your head.
Don't get hit,
Save yourself
before you try to save me.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Waiting in the darkened forest,
laying on the leaves and needles
just watching for my prey.
Talons of blood and fangs of sweat,
the nightmare shows it’s ugly form.
Shoot it down
one, two, three shots
until the glistening blood turns into a river
and I can soundly go to bed.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
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.
Christina Cox Jan 2016
My tears, they run.
Creating streaks
of black.
Because my tears
aren't made of water
but the fire
burning up my soul.
Christina Cox Jan 2016
This music you call loud
disastrous
scary
is the friend I have
who understands
when I'm too scared
to talk to you.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
When I say, "I hate myself"
I do not speak of petty things.
I speak of hating my body because it is.
I hate my voice and my mind.
Hated fills every crevice of my soul.
It destroys the possibility of love
for the petty, pretty, blue eyes.
Hatred, hating, hate for myself.
Christina Cox Jan 2016
There's a river that doesn't follow
the rules of erosion.
There can be no gorge
on a curved surface.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Is it my heart or my head
that wishes I was dead?
Christina Cox Jan 2016
I wait for you to see my truth
it lies behind my eyes
the hidden words
the hiding thoughts
shining through the tears.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Is it so hard to understand?
I want to love myself.
Before I love someone else.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
The worst part of getting over something or someone
is realizing you actually haven’t.
Christina Cox Jan 2016
I see the way you look at me
a fat girl wearing a crop top at the gym.
Your frown screams how dare you
and I'm sure your mind says it too.

-
The small girl walks in
with perfect hair and shorts barely there.
You will avert your eyes
to avoid the ugly in your gym.

But wait.

You didn't.

You walked over and smiled.
Said hi.
Gave me some advice
and moved on.
-

-
There are boys I know
from middle and high school;
I haven't seen in years.

I see them wonder at my clothes
while acknowledging me
with tiny pursed smiles.
-

-
There are women larger than I
they look at me with disgust
and I don't know why.
-

So many judgements
in a place where walls are mirrors
and sweat is a normal thing.

But do these people really feel
the way I think they do?

Because I look at them
and don't really care.

We're all just working out
in a gym
trying to become
who we want to be.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Velvet words, loving words
Into her peaceful ear.
Only words he could say;
Language known to two teenagers.
Allow the words to pierce the soul
Take the words into her heart.
Ignore the warning signs
Of fake caresses.
Naked feelings he can see.
S**acrifice your body for his joy.
Christina Cox Jan 2016
The employees talk of lives
outside of work.
Then talk of work and lives
within these walls.
The patrons sit on their own
thinking of their own lives.
Then look up and make contact
with another.
And for just a second
they wait together.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
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.
War
Christina Cox Dec 2015
War
The tears?
They come and go.
With thoughts of
self-hatred.
With actions of
self-loathing.
Among the knowledge
that people
love me,
want me,
care for me.
So the tears,
they keep on coming.
Because the fight
of feelings
against myself,
for me,
never stops.
Even when I want it to.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
The music I hear
floats around my head
in shapes that show
the pain I’m in.

The sounds I frequent
are glued to my ears
while I bob up and down
in a crowd of myself.

The songs I sing
stream out my mouth
with words that say
I’m not alone.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I wish I could tell you what is in my head.
Not just the emotions but the stream of words I never said.
“**** this ****,” and “**** it all.”
“Go to Hell,” and “You’re an *******.”
Sometimes to the people walking down the street.
Often to my family sitting watching television.
But mostly to myself when I’m looking  in a mirror.
To myself though, I say the words out loud.
I also include, “I should just die.”
Christina Cox Dec 2015
“**** this ******* ****,”
is my favorite saying;
****, it is simple.
Christina Cox Feb 2016
My name is not Christina.

My name is darkness.
My name is depression.
My name is anxiety.

My name...
is full of problems.

My name is broken.
My name is sad.
My name is harm.

To myself and to others.
My name spells out "suicidal."

My name is not my own.
I share my name with many others.

My name is your name
and your name is my name.
With little spelling differences.

We are a family.
Together coping
and trying to survive.

Our family,
who is in so much pain,
and want to love themselves,
who love each other,
but cannot see
why
the others love us.

We are a family
where our names are not our own.
And I am part of that family.

My name is not Christina.

My name is your name.
Our name is trying,
our name is hope,
our name is work.

Our names are the same
and that name is
desire
to get better.

And together,
we can.

We.
Can.
Do.
This.

Our family,
the family we have
where all our names are same.

We can do this.
We,
who are all the same.

Because I believe you can do this.
And I know you believe I can do this.
So with our beliefs in each other
we can all do this.

We,
the siblings,
will lean on each other
for strength,
for love,
for hope,
for compassion,
for sympathy,
for knowledge,
for understanding.

This family is strong
in it's broken heart
and broken soul.

Our family is different.
It does not run through our veins.
But runs through water
of tears running down our faces,
blood running down our limbs,
of pain running through our souls.

We are a family,
and together,
we can survive.

My name is not Christina.

My name is not Christina.

You will tell me,
my name is not broken,
my name is not depression,
my name is not anxiety.

You will tell me,
my name is happiness,
my name is soulful,
my name is bright,
my name is beautiful.

My name is Christina.

And I will tell you,
your name is beautiful,
your name is strong,
your name is bright,
your name is loving.

Your name is [insert name here].

We are a family of broken souls
just trying to get better
and together,
we can.

My name is Christina.
And I am part of this family.

Your name is [insert name here].
And you are part of this family.

We will work together
through problems,
through heartbreak,
through sadness,
through numbness.

We are a family.

Who,
as individuals
may feel weak
but together are strong.

We are a family.

We are a family.
From a recording on my phone. A little jumbled, but was a very emotional time to speak and write.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
From the most caring of my relatives.

Grandma.
Uncle.
Aunt.
Great Aunt.

“I need to focus on school.”
“I want to work to get money.”
“I have friends to hang out with.”

None of them the real answer.

How can I have a boyfriend,
a person to love me,
when I hate myself?
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Don’t look too closely at her eyes
or you will see the truth.
Blue eyes made of stars show a girl:
happy
pretty
caring
Look past the beauty and see through:
sad
hatred
destructive
All to herself.
If eyes are truly the windows to the soul.
Make sure you don’t look in,
and see the secrets this girl hides.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I cry, my tears freeze.
While I swing in the playground.
As the snow falls down.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I do not pray for I don’t know
if God is real or not.
Instead I send a prayerful wish
to the fallen stars.
They bring my wish back down to earth
with their blueish hues
and in their dust they like to say,
“My dear, you have already made
that wish today.”
This star speaks true for that I did
make my second wish a replicate
for when I wish
I try so hard to receive that which I desire.
So in the end I guess it’s true
that my prayer to a God
whom I don’t recognize
is a wish to a star that I do know.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
With these arms bared
I come up stairs
and sit around the table.

With this shirt worn
I play the games
while you sit across.

With my body shown
you take secret looks
but keep the thoughts silent.

With the body shown
you accept me
and the pain I inflict.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
In good or bad times
look within yourself and find
truth behind the lies.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
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?
Christina Cox Dec 2015
“I hate you.”
“**** this ****.”
“**** it all.”
“Go to Hell.”
“Worthless *****.”
“No one cares.”
“******* *****.”
“Just a ****.”
“Stupid girl.”
“Just go die.”
“**** yourself.”
“Help me.”
“Save me.”
Christina Cox Jan 2016
I'm needing a map
Showing in my soul
With a path to leave
Christina Cox Jan 2016
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?
Christina Cox Jan 2016
You took my heart and held it so
carefully.
You saw my soul and molded it so
lovingly.
You felt my body and loved it so
unthankfully.
You stole my happiness and threw it so
harshly.

— The End —