When I walk by you
I can hardly breathe
I think I love you because
You are all I see.

When will it stop?
When did it start?
How can I follow my mind,
Without breaking my heart?

I guess I’ll have to stay
Okay without us meeting
But just so you always know;
Your existence keeps my heart beating.

I keep my paintbrush with me
Wherever I may go
In case I need to cover up
So the real me doesn’t show.
I’m so afraid to show you me
Afraid of what you’ll do-
That you might laugh or say mean things;
I’m afraid I might lose you.

But if you be patient and close your eyes
I’ll strip off my paint coats real slow.
Please understand how much it hurts
To let the real me show.
Now my coats are all stripped off-
I feel naked, bare, and cold.
But if you still love me with all that you see
You are my friend, pure as gold.

I need to keep my paintbrush, though,
And hold it in my hand.
I need to keep it handy
In case someone doesn’t understand.
So please protect me, my dear friend,
And thanks for loving me true.
But, please, let me keep my paintbrush with me
Until I love me too.

I went to a birthday party,
But I remember what you said.
You told me not to drink at all,
So I had a Sprite instead.
I felt proud of myself
The way you said I would
That I didn’t choose to drink and drive
Though some friends said I should.
I knew I made a healthy choice, and
Your advice to me was right
As the party ended
And the kids drove out of sight.
I got into my own car,
Sure to get home in one piece,
Never knowing what was coming,
Something I expected least.
Now I’m lying on the pavement,
I can hear the policeman say,
“the kid that caused this wreck was drunk.”
His voice seems far away.
My own blood is all around me,
As I try hard not to cry.
I can hear the paramedic say,
“This girl is gonna die.”
I’m sure this guy had no idea
While he was flying high,
Because he chose to drink and drive
That I would have to die.
So why do people do it?
Knowing it ruins lives.
But now the pain is cutting me
Like a hundred stabbing knives.
Tell my sister to not be afraid;
Tell Daddy to be brave,
And when I go to heaven
To put “Daddy’s Girl” on my grave.
Someone should have told him
That it’s wrong to drink and drive.
Maybe if his mom and dad had,
I’d still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter,
I’m really getting scared.
These are my final moments
And I’m so unprepared.
I wish that you could hold me, Mom,
As I lie here and die.
I wish that I could tell you,
I love you and goodbye.

Today, I am sick.
My mental illness is shaped like a prison
and I am in the waiting room
wanting to ask
"What are you in here for"
like
what kind of crime has your head committed
that you are trying to lock it up
with prescriptions
and weekly meetings filled
with uncomfortable confessions
and numb palms from sitting on your hands for too long.
They say it's like playing in traffic,
a red-light-green-light game
where we beg for help
but don't know how to move
when we're asked to explain how we got here.
Do you even remember
what you're running from anymore?
Tell us about the days
where you can't tell if waking up
is a trench or a hill.
What has your head told you to do
and have you done it?
How did it feel when it was over?
Did your head congratulate you
when you were done?
Did you get a prize
like new scars?
Or three more handles of liquor?
The last time you prayed
did you have trouble unlocking your fingers?
Did the weight of God
keep your hands closed tight
in hopes that you wouldn't forget him
like the last time you saw Him
in the bottom of the pill bottle
and you smiled back?
Everyone here says the word Friday
like it hurts
because we know that the weekend is here
but we just can't seem to feel it.

Today we are sick
and nobody notices because our noses aren't running
we aren't openly bleeding in front of the one's we love
we do it in secret
just in case they ever catch us.
Today, we wanted them to catch us.
Stick out their hands
like a safety net
but it doesn't matter what height we fall from
because bones hitting bones
like a head on car collision
will never feel like warm sheets
blanketing our bodies
but we can't help but wonder
if the sheet they will cover us with
after they find us
will be warm too.

Today we are tired of being sick
tired of waking up looking like police chalk lines
tired of walking into the therapy rooms
like they are our parish
but we're too afraid God might smite us on the way in.
We shouldn't have to flinch
when certain words are said
that pull us back loading gun
but are too weak to pull the trigger.

Today WE are the triggered,
the empty promise of tomorrow being filled
with another prescription
another drink
another list of second hand hope
coming from someone who is probably
still trying to remember what it says.
We would rather tiptoe between eggshells
and take our time
than let you know we are struggling.
We are STRUGGLING.
And it makes us so very tired.

So today I am tired
and I will tell you that
instead of reminding you
that every day I am sick.

It's not you
    I promise
What I say is true
      He never deserved
           You

     It's not your fault
           I know for a fact
      Trust me
             You are better
          Than a boy like that

It's for the best
       Please,
    Believe me
          He'll do it to the next girl
       And the next
            And next
      You'll find your one
          In this world

        It's time to breathe
             Have faith in what
          I'm saying to you
      This might just be
                Poetry
          But I was cheated on too

It's time to believe
      You're worth more than
   You can see
           No more tears, please
      He's not worth your pain
             You're gorgeous
       And you're NOT to blame

     It's for the best,
              It's not you
          Please,
    Just Breathe.
          Believe me,
  Cause I've made it through.
         I know,
      What I say is true.
             Cause
         **I was cheated on too.

We enter this world alone.
We leave alone, only bones.
During our stay, we call it home.
The only home we've ever known.
And we will leave, with tired feet,
All we are that we perceive,
Whom we have loved, what we have known,
Back into the deck it shall go.
Everything during our mortal stay,
We must leave here, outside of the grave.
We assume what we consume
Can build us comfortable rooms,
But the most scenic of views,
Are priceless and cannot be used,
Only borrowed from Nature's Hearth.
A gift to preserve - the gift of Earth.
Keep her clean, do her well.
Be part of the solution, in her you shall dwell,
And if you bare children to also know Mother,
Give them, too, knowledge of how to love her.