When I feel like crying,
I smoke.
When I feel frustrated,
I smoke.
When someone talks with me,
I ignore them and smoke.
When I realize my life it's useless,
I smoke.
I hate crying,
I hate feeling frustrated,
I hate when someone talks with me,
I hate my life,
But I love smoking.

"Stupid life,
Stupid life,
Stupid life.
Ugh I want to **** someone.
Oh **** it I'm going to smoke." - me, every single second I'm not smoking.

"Why do you smoke?"
You must remember that question,
Because I remember.
It was the first words you said to me.

I didn't answer you,
I thought you were a ******* trying to win a bet or something by talking with me.
I was mostly right.

"I smoke too you know."
That was the second time in just one week.
"*******."
It would have been better if I didn't say anything.

"Want one?"
You offered me what I already was smoking.
"I already have one, ****."
I looked at the other way.
"But you still want another."
I was stupid,
I was stupid.
Because I took it.

Words come in,
Tears come out.
Can my silence be so painful?

My tears come out because my eyes can't contain the pain,
As my mouth do.

My silence, it's my suffering.
The suffering I can't let anyone see.
I can't be that weak,
To let them know.

Humans,
The most cruel beings existing on earth.
What it hurts the most,
Is that I'm one of them.

The same person who suffers,
Can provoke pain to other people.
What's humanity after all then?
We lost it?
Does it even has the right to be called like that?

I'm a pitiful being,
Yes, I'm.
Always complaining about my pain,
Like other people don't suffer too.
They do,
But I do too.

So let me be,
Even for an instant complain!
Because there's a lot of things about me that are wrong!

I want to complain about that.
I want to scream them all.
In a another world where I'm not human,
And I'm finally,
Alone.

I fell,
Deep down.
I wanted to fly.
But my broken wings didn't let me.

Me,
You.
You,
Me.
**... never us...

Maybe I was having a nightmare,
When I saw you.

Now I got used to it.
To all pain and tears,
To all scars and fears.

Now I got used to it.
To my life without a meaning,
To my life without the act of smiling.

Now I got used to it.
To being hated by myself,
To not being loved by you.

Now I got used to it.
To being an useless human.

People think I'm just a stupid girl who writes more stupid things.
What they don't know it's that the stupid things I write about is in fact my life.
So basically my life it's stupid.

People think I don't care about what they say about me, because what it's not true it's not going to hurt me right?
Wrong, absolutely wrong.
I would like to feel that way every time they tell me something less positive about what I write.
But I don't.
So basically I can't lie about how I feel when I write.

People think love it's true, magnificent and perfect.
You exist to prove that they are wrong.
So basically love it's just a word with legends.

People think that I'm a suicidal girl who hates herself.
What they don't know it's the effort that it takes to pass by another day, breathing, knowing that your life is ****, but still writing.
So basically I don't care about my life, but I care about my poems.

People think they know why I write.
But they don't.
Because none of them would understand that I write to heal myself, I write because it's the only way I can feel alive, they don't understand that.
So basically nobody knows me.

People think they know everything that they need to.
But they don't.
You know why?
Because they don't know me.
They don't know you.
I'm glad they don't, some of them are just stupid people like me right?
So basically the world it's stupid,

And I'm in it.

Please,
Don't get close to me.
I only cause pain,
To myself and everyone who gets close.
That's why please,
Don't get close to me,
I love you too much to live with the idea that someday I caused you pain.
Please,
Don't get close to me,
I can't control myself.
I don't have control over this,
Not even a little.
I lost it when I lost myself in the darkness.
That's why,
I'm dying,
Little by little I'm dying,
Dying inside.
That's why please,
Don't get close to me.

She's Rude.
She's Acting.
She's always Crying.
She has a Heavy heart.
She doesn't Exist.
She's a Lie.

Remember,
This was never a love story.

What happens when you stop fighting?

You lose?

No, you resist.

And resisting is much stronger than fighting,

Because in fights is between winning or losing,

And in the resistance you only,

Resist.

She's something,
I don't know what but she's something.
Something I can't see.
Something I can't hear.
Something I can't touch.
Something I don't believe in.

Sara,
People keep calling my name.
Sara,
Silence it's all they get from me.
Why?
I don't talk with people who pretend to like me.
Sara*,
That's my name.

Maybe she just didn't like her life.
Maybe she was just hurt.
Maybe she just needed a hand.
Maybe she would be here if they didn't had killed her with those words.

Under the rain,

Shoeless,

Soulless.

Her time is busy with loneliness,

And not only loneliness,

But depression too.

But she doesn't want to know.

She doesn't want to know about her so much cuts in her wrists.

She doesn't want to know about her tears in conjunction with the rain.

She doesn't want to know about the floor full of stones that hurt her feet.

She doesn't want to know about the blood that falls from her face because of the punches that she took from her father.

She doesn't want to know about the bruising caused by her run away from home.

She doesn't even want to know about herself.

She just walks,

Under the rain,

Shoeless,

Soulless.

I try to be just something, but I never get it.
I never get that thought,
That right thing,
That bad thing,
That I have no idea of what it is.
I can never catch that moment,
When you hold my hand like there's no tomorrow,
Like I'm unique,
Special.
I can never appreciate you like I know you deserve.
I can never love you less.
I can never stop of feeling alive with you.
I can never not want you.
It's your fault,
I know it is.
And even with all this I never get it,
I can't be just something,
Because you make me feel much more than that.
You make me feel like someone,
Someone that exists.

Coward people,

It's said that they are coward people,

Weak people who can't control the situation.

I don't think the same way,

For me they aren't more than just people,

People who try to do a stupid thing,

But the most courageous thing too.

It's not like from a moment to the other you can do it,

You need courage,

And a lot of it,

More than I will ever have.

"That isn't poetry, it's just thoughts on paper"
That's why my opinion it's different of yours.
That's why everyone has their own opinion.
If it's not poetry for you,
It is for me.

Do you know what to do when you're sad?
When you're mad?
I don't.
Everything I do when I'm sad or mad it's a ******* impulse.
A ******* impulse.
I would like to control it but sometimes I can't.
I can't!
It's like it's not even me that thinks in that moment,
Or maybe it's the me that thinks too much.
I don't even know.
Have you ever done something and then regretted it?
I did.
That *****.
I don't like to feel that way.
It's like you thought that you knew everything,
That you knew yourself.
But the reality it's that you don't.
I don't.
Not even someone who isn't born yet knows!
We don't know anything.
I don't know anything.
And then we just keep doing the same and the same mistakes,
And that makes me sick,
Sick of life.
Because I do that ******* same mistakes too.
Don't we know that that it's a ******* mistake?
Don't we know that's bad?
Don't I know it?
Yes, we do.
Yes, I do.
We still do it anyway.
I still do it anyway.
We are really selfish beings,
We all are.
I'm.
**And that ******* *****.

They.
Them.
They are here.
And everything is because of them.
They control everything and anything.
The reason is from them.
They hurt you,
If you try to hurt me.
They hurt me,
If I try to hurt you.
The dolls inside of me love you,
But they hate you.
D o l l s.
They live inside of me,
And get out whenever they want to.
Sooner or later they always come back,
Because I am my dolls,
And they are me.
Do what they tell you to.
Only them can control what is ours.
Live with the thought that you can't escape.
Lie like you believe me.
So you can answer me like you mean it.

Now, do you know my dolls?
*And where are yours?

Ink.
You're my ink.
A book.
I'm your book.
Write on me.

You think I'm weak because I cry,

But you don't know the strength that's necessary to cry in front of you.

Three words changed my life.
And no, they weren't "I love you".
Because my life it's not a fairytale not even a movie.
Is simply the reality.
And it's because of that that these words changed my life.
They made me cry,
They made me change.
Change to something better,
Something that doesn't have to be abandoned.
Something that is me now.
Just something.
The worst part of all this it's that it was you who said this words,
The same you that said "I love you" so many times.
The same you that promised things that couldn't do.
But I believed you anyways.
I believed in your words.
Until I forgot them all in that Saturday morning,
With just three words.
"I am going."

You were not "everything to me" after all.

Maybe I'm just a frustrated woman who doesn't love in a normal way.

Memories fade*,
Right?
Wrong.
My memories of you,
Didn't.

My life is a book.
**A blank one.

When you look me up close you see nothing.
That's what I want people to know.
Nothing about me.
That's how it should be.

There's a depressive side of me?
No.
That's how I'm.
When I'm not like that,
Is when I'm really pretending.

Sometimes my words aren't enough,
To describe how much I want you out of my life.

Losing you hurts.
But I actually didn't lost you,
You let me go.
And I can't do anything about it,
It was your decision.
I have to be comprehensive.
I have to.
Even when I don't want.

I know what I want*.
And no, I don't want you.

Another blank page,
Where my heart should be.

It's so sad,
How I keep lying to myself,
And I know it.

What will happen when I'm not enough for you?