"What's wrong with asking?
It's only a harmless question."

"It may be a harmless question,
But you may not get
A harmless answer."

Isn't it queer
How puppets,
Made of cloth
And button eyes
Can be so animated
And lively

While humans
Like myself
With a beating heart
And blinking eyes
Are too tired
To even smile?

Then again,
Puppets have
A puppeteer's hands
Working the magic
While I
Am dragging myself
Across the bumpy roads
Alone.

{a.s}

Remember when we
Confided in each other
Laughed at the
Shallowness of society?

And as the days went by
My feelings
Our feelings for each other
Grew stronger
And we confessed.
I recall how
Warm and red
My face was.  

We were so close,
You were the only true friend
I had.
I trusted you,
Loved you.
And once upon a time
I was sure you did, too.

But what happened?
Did I say something wrong?
Or did your fickle mind
Simply grow bored
Of this pathetic, desperate girl
With a warped view of the world?

Because now
We barely talk
And I'm always the one who
Initiates a conversation
That always ends so abruptly.

Can we go back to
What we used to be?
Best friends,
Nothing more?

I'm not asking for romance,
I long gave up on that.

I used to look
At the world
With rose-tinted glasses.
To me,
Everything was beautiful
And innocent, pure
How could anything
Be evil?

But the same world
I admired
With eyes open wide
In awe
Was very cruel.
It splattered blood
And sprayed black paint
Onto my twisted lenses
And the beautiful
Sunset shade of pink
Was covered with
Such horror.

I never saw anything
The same way again.

But I still haven't lost hope.
I continue
Trying my best
To look out these tainted glasses
Hoping that maybe
I'll find someone
Who's willing
To clean the lenses.

I painstakingly
Edit my pictures
Select my captions
Carefully.

Hashtag like there's no tomorrow,
Because hey,
How else can I get noticed?

I check the number of likes
And comments that I get
By the minute
Refreshing
And refreshing
Again.

Follow those famous people
In the hopes I'll
Get followed back.

Lady Gaga could not
Have said it better.
I live
For the applause.

It's hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember, it hurts.

I still find it
Hard to let go.

I was deluded,
Tricked by myself
Thinking
I had moved on.

But all I had to do
Was replay my favourite memory
Of you and I
And
I had a relapse.

I started falling for you,
Now miles away,
All over again.

Usually I'm fine
With me not being nice to others
And others not being nice to me
In return.
That's okay.
I don't mind
Living a life
Separate from everyone else.  

But then I see people
Being nice to others
And I think
"Why doesn't anyone do this
To me?"

So I end up feeling
Like an unwanted *******.

Is there anyone
Who doesn't cut
In the middle of the night
And hides their scars
Underneath bracelets
And baggy sweaters
But feels sad, suicidal,
Crying in bed,
Losing hope in life?

Is there anyone
Who doesn't starve
Or force herself to puke
With a mind that
Condemns every bit of fat
But feels
Insecure,
Thinks herself as ugly?

Is there anyone
Who isn't ostracised,
Mocked, bullied,
Betrayed
But still feels alone,
Left out,
Out of place?

Is there anyone
Who's neither here
Nor there?

Is there anyone else
Like me?

She looked at how
Everyone was so sad,
So in need of help,
And thought,
"Maybe I could do something
To help!"

And then she realised,
Laughing bitterly
That she couldn't even
Save herself.

Sure,
We don't go into gang fights,
Or drink, do drugs or have ***.
We're the cream of the crop,
Or so they say.

But what's the use of
Intelligent minds
When they're not used?
We waste our life away
(By our parent's standards, anyway)
Doodling in class,
Blasting music, writing poems
Rushing work at the last minute
Study only when we really,
Really need to
(While secretly surfing the net
On our phones, of course.)

We steal money,
Sneak out in the afternoon
Go shopping
To satisfy our miscellaneous whims.
Gossip about the other girls,
Calling them stupid, ******, *****.
Complain about the teachers,
And high-five each other,
Wishing good luck in
Scraping past for exams.

We spill our sorrows
About overbearing parents
About the **** in life
With that angry glint
In our eyes.

How ironic.
I'm the kind of kid
My parents warn me about.

Due next Thursday?
No problem!
I'll start
The day before.

I roam
These empty hallways
Tread on broken glass
That reflects you
And the little moments
I treasure so much.

I use my hands
Those which slipped into yours so perfectly
Like a puzzle piece
To pick up those shattered pieces.
They're scratched
By the sharp edges
That pierce my skin.

I carry those wisps of memories
in my arms
Those I used to wrap around you
In warm embrace.
They're ******,
Cut by the glass
Pressed against them.

I roam these empty hallways
Trying to
Collect memories,
Both good and bad.
But inside,
I hope that
Maybe,
Just maybe
I'll find you too,
Roaming these empty hallways
Picking up the
Fragments of us.