I am so accustomed to the fact that no one gives a ****.
No one really cared.
They were never my friends.
They pity me and tolerate me.
I'm annoying and useless.
They don't want me around because I'm not good enough.
But they'd never know,
As the smile on my face,
Just as fake as them.

Dear dad,
I'm 18 years old,
and you've been out of my life for 17 years and 42 weeks of it.
You missed out on your little girl learning, and growing, and turning into a woman.
Someone else taught me how to ride a bike,
but I don't think that you mind missing something so important.
I don't think you mind missing recitals, and concerts and shows.
I don't think you'd even recognize me if you saw me on the street.
You don't deserve the title dad,
so for as long as I can remember, I've called you ***** donor.
Because that's all you ever given me (except for daddy issues and hereditary mental illness).
You don't deserve the title dad because you never taught me how I was supposed to be treated;
so I settled for too little, and longed to be loved.
But now, I don't even call you ***** donor,
I neglect to recognize your existance in my life,
because let's face it, you were never even a possibility.
I feel bad after all these years,
because you missed out on the joy of having a daughter,
and being a father.

I'd hate to think you're the reason for his perfect smile. If you keep going on like this, I can't help but cry. He was so perfect- please don't ruin him. If you let this all go, we could just pretend. Oh, my dear, you used to be my best friend. Now you just like use my sweet friend. The poor guy, taken in by overly-made up eyes. You're obvious. But so delirious, if you think I've given up, just because you think you've won. You are terribly wrong- we'll just blame your low IQ. I'd hate to be anything like you.

I just can't look at you, without seeing all the things you put me through. That's just not what good friends do. You know I'm just too good for you.

You don't get to see me cry. I'm doing my best not to be betrayed by telltale eyes. Don't try to make me feel bad for my feelings. I'm not the one involved in deceitful dealings. I trusted you with my secrets, should've known you'd never keep them. Oh, lost *****. You won't hear from me much more. Everyone is taking my side, and I'll watch all your shallow friendships die. I hope they were worth seeing me cry. So kiss your reputation goodbye as you kiss him. Enjoy it, I won't see it happen again.

When you feel bad, I'll be ever so glad. Cuz, oh, you don't deserve to make me this sad. Any normal person'd feel like dirt. But you love seeing others hurt. Enjoy your victory. I'll cover up I'm so unhappy.

I just can't look at you, without seeing all the things you put me through. That's just not what good friends do. You know he's just too good for you. I know he'll figure that out soon.

Don't try and make them pick sides- cuz they already picked me. You're alone, dear, don't you see? You are your very worst enemy.

Saying goodbye
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.

As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
And perfect
The plot always was.  

You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.

Finally understanding
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.

Although the last sentence  
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.

Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.

You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book  
Was your favorite story
All along.

black skirt climbing up her shining thighs…
she pulls it down and the excitement dies

from the men around her: “****, she’s fine!”
looking up from her phone- she’s next in line.

“may i see your id?” asks the giant,
she shows it to him- acting compliant.

female, black hair, brown eyes, twenty-one.
everything checks out- “stay safe, have fun.”

once she steps through those guarded doors,
she puts her pvc plastic back inside her michael kors.

no ‘x’ on her hand, but an ex on her mind-
she steps onto the dance floor and begins to grind.

many men manage to embrace her swaying hips,
bite her beautiful neck, and kiss her thirsty lips.

from their mouths flows a river of lies,
while hands below swim up sweating thighs.

she’s feeling ecstatic, but he wants more,
her “friends” watch as he carries her out the door.

to say “yes,” she’s in no position,
so he advances without a proposition.

the next morning when she wakes,
in funny places her body aches.

next to her he’s fast asleep,
her phone rings: bleep, bleep!

texts from her “friends” fill her screen-
things they typed, they did not mean.

“we’re worried…  where are you? text me the address!”
she gathers her things and pulls down her black dress.

tiptoeing through his apartment, she quietly closes the door.
she’s quiet in the car still, afraid of being called a “*****.”

when they asked her to come out that night, she said: “i don’t like partying anymore.”