They will try to take everything.

The people you love, and the flowers you've grown,
every award you have earned and every dollar you've yet to spend.
Your safety and your home, your lover and your rights to freedom.
They will bleed you dry of everything you own.
Your sanctuaries to ruin, music to rhythms with no sound.
This is real life, and they've no reason to stop taking
what was meant to be ours, for now and since ever.
I haven't got much left but my head, and my heart
and to no surprise, they've both been aching.

They will try to take everything, but my God,
you cannot let them.

Go if you must, now if you can.
Take all that you've got left,
run til you can't stand.
This is your battle, your fight
and fight it you must,
every day of your life.

This is the night,
one we shan't ever forget,
for this is the eve we remembered
how to be who we are
without apology.

Now go! Don't ever stop,
remember this poem
forget what they taught.
If they take us, do not forfeit.
Go, if you must,
but go violently,
Go, and we must,
and never go silently.

I loved you with everything I had,
and you loved me with limits.
I loved you with your messy hair,
and how you made me forget.
You could never say the words
that you really meant.

I loved you with everything I had,
and you loved me with limits.
I told you all my secrets,
all the things I never said.
That same night you said you loved me,
but you wouldn't come to bed.

It's been a while, and you're the same
except your hair is different.
I knew right then I loved you still,
it shook me to the bone.

"I liked your messy hair better."

All too well rehearsed, you said
"It was just too difficult to take care of."

And I knew why I was sleeping alone.

I have heard "I love you"
In words like "don't forget your umbrella"
And "be careful on those steps"
And I'd like to tell you that I love you
In all those words and more
But you don't hear me when I try
So my voice has dropped in decimals
From screaming over the noise in your head
To whispering the words when you're asleep.
I've heard you can talk to the people in comas,
So maybe in your slumber you will hear me.
Be careful out there darling.

why are there people who believe its "poetic" to self harm
it frightens me that there are teenagers who are doing this
to themselves, they're self harming because they think it
is "darkly beautiful" or "sadly romantic" there is nothing
beautiful about the scars covering my skin there is nothing
romantic about being terrified someone, anyone, might see
them, these lines of weakness, that i've placed there myself
it's an addiction, a sick way i clean my head, because
the thoughts jumble up, thoughts of; missing, emptiness,
time, space, names, locations, people, dates, stories, sadness
wrongness, hurt, longing, hate, self loathing, destructiveness
i am no where near proud i fell this deep into a hole this dark
i'm scared of being close to people, i shut myself away,
starving myself to reach "perfection"
because maybe if i am skinny enough to be considered "perfect"
then people wont care, wont notice the pink and purple lines
covering my form. no. there is nothing poetic about sadness
nothing. so stop convincing yourself you want to be a sad
lonely, scared, self destructive "poet"

"Promise me, that even when I'm gone, you won't do anything stupid or reckless.
Promise me you will be safe."

When the world is spinning and falling apart in front of your eyes,
it's hard to promise anything more than the truth.

"Cross my heart," I whispered, grinning,
"and hope to die".

And for the last time I saw you smile back at me.
And you never thought twice about it.

My name is Rachel
But others may refer to me as
Rach, Rachie, or Rae-rae.

I am nineteen years of age.

When I was a little girl
My smile was as bright as the sun
I ran and jumped and tumbled
I climbed trees that were so tall they touched the sky
And if ever I fell down
I picked myself up, still smiling.

It was when I was ten
That my smile finally faded
And my parents grew frustrated
With themselves
And the day they told my brother, sister and I
That they weren’t going to be together anymore
Was the same day I fell
And wasn’t strong enough to stand back up.

Four years
Of complete and total darkness
Is what followed

And then half my face froze up
Stuck in a permanent state of nothing
A paralysis of the nerves
Labelled ‘Bell’s Palsy’
Was what finally motivated my dad
To get me out of there
And after a while
I must’ve been smiling pretty hard
Because the paralysis went away.

And now I’m here.

If I were to describe myself
I’d point out that I’m five foot, four inches tall, on a good day
When anxiety isn’t weighing me down.
Rarely do I ever stand up straight.
I have deep, dark brown eyes
That observe more than they can really see.
They remain hidden behind thick framed glasses
For they, themselves, wish not to be seen.
My hair is as brown and ordinary,
Long and untamed and always in the way.
I’d cut it all off, like when I was younger
But I look older this way
And my friends like it.

I spend most of my time blogging
Even though rarely does anything exciting happen to me,
But then, that’s what John Watson said
Right before he met Sherlock.

I love television and movies
I love video games
I love books
Because I love stories.
Listening to them
Watching them
Reading them
I’d never get bored.

I like books, their pages dry and crinkling at my touch.
I put more effort into procrastination than I do into any sort of work.

Death laughs, and life depresses me.
I’m afraid of a lot of things.

Sometimes I feel too much,
Sometimes I feel nothing at all,
And that frightens me.

My imagination tends to run wild,
And sometimes it’s beautiful
But sometimes it’s brutal.
Sometimes I’m just paranoid.

I think about thinking
I think about other people thinking
I think about other people thinking about what I’m thinking
I’m an over thinker.

Secretly I’m a hopeless romantic,
And I hope to fall in love without getting confused by the idea of it.
But that’ll happen when I’m ready for it.

I believe in the equality of all things, though I’m hesitant to say it’s achievable.
I know there’s good to be found in people
But I don’t understand why all I keep finding is bad.

I’m proud and prejudiced against prejudiced people
Jane Austen is my hero.

If you ask me my name
I’d probably stumble over it
Like I stumble over everything
Words seems to curl my tongue
They do wonders at the tips of my fingers
But die as soon as they cross my lips.
I get nervous when I have to speak
Or look someone in the eye
And I’m pretty sure my mouth has a mind of its own.

I like being alone but sometimes I get lonely.
I’m moody and temperamental, and a little mental
But those that care for me don’t mind.

I’m more inclined to listen
If I can sing along too.

I’m clumsy and uncoordinated.
I walk into doorframes and apologize.
I stub my toe and laugh
But other people’s pain makes me cry.

I know a few words in Italian,
Even fewer in Russian,
And they’re all slang or swear words.

When I blush my entire face is painted scarlet,
And my skin is so sensitive it’s sometimes a blotchy mess.
I stutter
Unless I’m ranting.
Usually my thoughts make more sense
When I’m not thinking at all.

I am Rachel and this is barely scratching the surface of who I might be.

It’s winter and we’re sitting on the bench
And snow is falling and I’m cold
But your hands are twice the size of mine
And I think that maybe as long as they’re wrapped around me,
I’ll be okay.
We talk about her and you say that you lost your innocence there
But you lost your heart here.
You brush your thumb over my cheek to wipe away a stray eyelash
You hold it out for me
“Make a wish”

Its summer now and it could be the way your laugh sounds
Or how you let me try to count every strand of hair on your head
It could be the way you hold my hand and pull me down to the grass
Just to kiss me.
It could be those ripped jeans that you swear you’ll replace
It could just be that this summer boy isn’t my winter boy.
And I think you know that I don’t mind, and that I love the laughter in your eyes
And the gold of your skin.
You hold out a dandelion towards me
“Make a wish”

It’s winter again and I’m laying in your bed
And our legs are twisted together with the sheets
Maybe my clothes are on your floor, but all I know is that they aren’t on me
And that you just were.
Maybe it hurts me that you aren’t the summer boy,
Maybe that’s like a stab in my heart each time I think of it.
So maybe you know that somewhere deep down,
And you try to make it better and I try to let you.
You hold me and you make me laugh and you say the right things sometimes
But I guess sometimes isn’t enough.
So you let me slip past you,
My fingers ghosting over your bare torso and your breath a whisper in my ear.
“Make a wish”

It’s summer again and it could be just because it’s my birthday
But no one here is him, not the winter boys and not the summer boy.
But you’re here and you’re different from them,
So maybe I’ll let myself get carried away in your words again.
And I’ll lay in a bed with you and I’ll let you play with my hair
But darling, you aren’t him.
And I love your words and the way you write me breathtaking things,
But his smile was the only thing that could ever steal my heart,
And keep it.
I remember sometime that night,
In the middle of the music and laughter
Someone shoved a cupcake towards me,
With a candle lit right in the middle
And said “Happy birthday”
“Make a wish”.