Please,
If you would,
Be my mother,
Let me be your daughter,
And not see me as your second chance at life.

Please,
If you would,
Don't see me,
Don't look at me,
And hope that I'd grow up to be like you.

I don't mean to be rude,
I am not insulting,
I am speaking my opinion,
On how you rub off me,
I don't mean anything.

But,
I want you to accept,
that I can't be what you planned,
Though you're a perfectionist,
I understand.

Let me be me,
please,
just love
accept,
that I am almost a complete opposite of you.

I want you to accept,
so I don't disappoint you,
I am uoy,
Though I am your daughter,
I am me.

Scrape,scrape,scrape.
Sounds of sad desperate melody as one would agree,
Tok-scrape-pause }x3

The happy anthem is ending,***.
Might as well give up,
corners are mere torture,
twisting,turning,
every angle you turn that butter knife,
It doesn't reach where you want it to.

The happy anthem is ending,
the desperate background and torturous beat
comes to an end,
leaving an imprint of sadness in your mind.

no more nutella for you.

She called me fool,
I heard it,
I loved it.
AAAAAAAARGGGGH.
Furiosa,
beautiful-strong.

Tho I'm Max,
Mad,
I am mad,
AAAAAARGHH,
I see my daughter sometimes,
she haunts my mind,
I miss-
AAAAARGHHHH.

The girls....
Not property anymore,
The coat-
AAAAARRRGHHH
breathes harshly breathes harshly
Mine.

The car....
Mine.
It's gone.

My blood...
Nux..
I wa-
AAAAARGGHHHH
breathes harshly breathes harshly breathes harshly
his blood bank,
he

HE's

Gone.

Darling I write to talk to myself as a self reflection
for the affirmation
to have a bit more clarity
for the stagnant jeopardy
I get myself stuck in

Darling I write these poems as love letters
like an omen
for my eyes to remind myself
I'll always have me and only me

Darling there aint ever gonna be a darling
that will stay forever
because everyone hears stories and they dont neccessarily want to bother

Darling you can be
amazing and beautiful and talented
but only you'll know where you've landed
and where you're landing
and where you're standing


Darling it may be a ditch of depressions
or an anxiety suppression
making you always feel caged by somethin
and there's no sight of the way in

Darling you love quiet drives on an empty highway with someone by your side,
soft music playing in the background, your lover breathing away your sighs
but everyone likes that until the dreaded realization

Darling you can paint skies and broken lies and make broken ties into beautiful dyes on a blank canvas,
paint your dreams,
your real emotions
people will stare and say amazing but they wont stay for the ending

Darling you can tell all your sad stories, words, artwork.
But in the end you will care for yourself more than others will,
because for them there's a bill at the end from consequences that depends
some will deal some wont
there's no real winning cards
dont hope for a support
just dont

Darling your heart has been broken by the world,
told there's and entity up there that cares for your soul
until you grow and you learn and all you can do is survive
what's the worth of their oath just to have a good last goodbye

Darling you only have yourself,
there is no one else
No guy with twinkling eyes
or parents with truly loving goodbyes
no guidelines to survive your loneliness
no way to tell if you'll die from this lie of a world
you find your own worth
you are your own earth
you love your own birth

Darling
Darling
Darling
Darling
Darling
Darling

There's something to the thoughts in my head that build a wall
right in front of
me, it screams

love love love love love
love love love love love
love love love love love
love love love love love

and seems to pulse with all that time has said

my hands reach out to touch it but I'm already on the other side

through apparition or self contradiction?

what did I feel at that time.

I turn to look back but all I see is darkness

there is a lightswitch in my eyes but a voice in my head says it's not yet the right moment

I turn back to look in front and there's more darkness ahead

there's a lightswitch in my eyes but my heart says

" let's rest instead "

so I sit down and look around,
there's wind but I feel nothing.
All there is that's burned into my mind is the wall that could've made me feel something
where I shut off the recorder in my brain and refused to let myself feel
maybe because if I had, I'd be sitting here with pain bleeding from my brain
I make out to be strong, but I know I'm the weakest, that's why the fight never stops and I'm always left lying in stills
A light comes on and I look back at the wall and it's not there.
What is reality and what is fantasy when both ceases to exist when I'm the most in despair

Where the emotions are the realest and it's hard to even take in some air
Where the world is the brightest with flashing colors of reality mixing with messed hair
everything is broken and needs to be repaired
but I turn my head to what's in front of me
light switch still turned on
It's still dark, there's not much of anything.
it's time to get up on that stage and sing

So,
I've,
read,
somewhere,
that,
as,
long,
as,
you,
press,
enter,­
and,
***,
(sorry,
typo)
add,
a,
comma,
a,
sentence,
will,
look,
­like,
poetry.

Don't fall into toxic waste,

Chasing Bad Boys will be your main race,

and the pieces of your broken heart await you at the finish line.

Sometimes I feel my bones, my blood trying to jump out of my skin
As if there's this pull of energy luring them from their bond of desperate sin
Like time is too slow for my energy, the vibrations too strong to sync
Even my lungs cant catch up, death seems as sweet as ketchup
Nothing is enough yet everything is too much. Is this a setup
You dont want this creative energy. though it does push your productivity
can you get out? it feels like hell in my body

This is not a panic attack or the leap or love
not the product of a workout or lack of slumber
this is natural and unexpected, hits you where you dont ask for it and when your body is stagnant
it just happens unpresidented and all you can do is sit in all of it.
Breathe in, breathe out
Breathe and live till the end of it

You make me feel warmth in the coldest parts,
like a fire burning away the darkness.

You shine through my darkest clothing with that white t-shirt,
bringing out the most colorful parts of me.

I'm going to keep this short,
and hope there will be no retort,
between the two of us like there was between the other 3.

She is an open book.

One
That has been left open
For so long

That dust coats her
Pages
In thousands of layers

And you
Can't seem to read
The words anymore.

Stress is a friend
you can never break ends,
with.

Stress is the kind to sneak as close to your face as
possible
and
scream
" YER STRESSED 'CAUSE YOU HAVE LOTS'A WORK
BUT YOU HAVE NADA MOTIVATION TO DO IT,
YOU HAVE NADA MOTIVATION TO DO IT 'CAUSE
YER STRESSED, ACE ."
and hits you in the face.

Leaving you panda eyes
of black and blue,
your work load piles up
with the never ending post-its of every hue.

You spend a whole day locked up,
though you're free.
Finally facing your work load
5 due tomorrow and 10 due May oh' 3.

You spend your whole day locked up,
not physically but mentally,
your thoughts running around your head,
shaking the bars over and over again,
shaking the stability of your mentality.

These thoughts don't necessarily
connect,
no they reflect over every memory,
again and again and again,
with every word you type it's the same beat, same tune, same words
again and again and again.

These thought don't even necessarily are long,
they could be a word,
a three word pun,
or 2 centimetres of wrong.

Stress is the ***** you seem to understand,
but when you try to describe her the words never end.

Your eyes,they're dark.
Dark brown like the rich,bitter coffee in the cup you held in your hand.

Sprang!

The sound still echos around my mind,bouncing into its depths.

Your eyes,
They burn with a wild fire that is spreading towards my
Pathetic dull wooden pupils.

Your eyes,they're ice
An ice berg,big and towering. Like you are towards me.
I shiver.
I'm shivering, an earthquake starting inside me.

But your eyes,
So sharp.
They pierce into my soul even though I've done nothing wrong.

And at last
I burn away
I break
I bleed.

Ash,ice,blood
Pouring out onto my cheeks
In the form of
Sadness
Pain
Anger
Confusement
Longing.

I surrender and I fall
With you still burning,freezing and stabbing.

It's not noticeable,
depression.

Yet it leaves
eternal impressions

You ask yourself whether
you're
doing what you do for yourself
and the answer's clear
whispering in your ear.
NO

These ABCs marked on a paper release,
marking your future,
your parent's judgement and
the level of your intelligence.

But what if you're intelligent in other things?
You don't memorize formulas
but you break the barriers
of creative.

Think outside the box when
so far in your life,
they teach you rules.

You have to do this,
do that.
No,
you can't live your life that way and

BAM!

You do something wrong,
and so you get hit by the throng of pain,
in the arms
in the face
in the waist.
Because you don't live up to be that someone else's ace.

Pinches, slaps, verbal abuse,
how much can one take before they lose.
Or maybe you have lost,
You know that and you just lie down wanting
to fall into the ground.

To lose yourself and escape into
computer games,
sports,
laughs
smiles while looking past and forcing yourself to forget
that trauma.

Eternal impressions
in your heart,
these scars that
mark your depression

There are pins on my pillow and I can't sleep,
Some are painted the bright colors you only see in dreams,
Some are lines, shapes, hues you see displayed on a modern art's canvas' seams.
Some emit words sewn together into a stream.

There are pins on my pillow and I can't sleep,
they sprout like water droplets hitting a window pane,
ugh my mind, my eyes are in pain.
I think I'm going insane.

There are pins on my pillow and I can't sleep,
They say to count the sheep,
but what if I am a sheep,
bleep bleep bleep,
I should paint sheep,
are there songs about sheep?
Maybe I should write one.
Ooh, and a story too,
find a way to make it a best seller,
maybe throw in some ****** Doo.

There are pins on my pillow and I can't sleep,
to pry them out is to let them sprout,
the sunlight shines through my window,
a yawn escapes my mouth.
I stare at the pins and I can't help but fall in love,
they are the babies from my pink squishy cove,
They make me want to weep
for my body
my mind is tired,
SOS someone give some drugs to fall asleep and rule my dream landscape empire,
I wanna fall into the darkness, sleep till noon.

Please do not wake me, or the gears will start spinning soon.

When thinking about growth,
if you let yourself think about growth,
it's like a dream.

Dream it be,
and it will.
But in growth,
You don't know you've grown until you realize your view is different.

There's no life
There's no life for me to put my life into
and for them to bounce back into me
SO that I can turn that life into something beautiful

There's no purpose or meaning to anything
Only my solitude
the decline of my social connection
the blurred visions of my days
prying myself off my bed
to face the world that has nothing
for me to love or give love to

Or receive love or be love
no love, no feeling,
just numbness and emptiness
screens and screens and screens
maybe they're actually screams
Theres no life in this room, this heart
when theres no life close by for art.

crack open a bottle
it's kinda sad there's no one to talk to about that cool new song
(maybe there is but facing the possibility of them just ignoring you or dismissing you is not a theory too far gone)


pop in a lil ****
it's kinda sad there's no one to talk to about a new idea you got
(maybe there is but facing the possibility of them just ignoring you or dismissing you isn't something easily bought)


down a whole coffee in 5 minutes
it's kind of sad there's no one to share a whole *** song you felt great about recording
(maybe there is but facing the possibility of them just ignoring you or dismissing you sounds a bit berating)


challenge yourself to write short poems at 1.45am
challenge yourself to somehow link them together
it's kind of sad that there's no one here for a little bit of chatter
(maybe there is but facing the possibility of them just ignoring you or dismissing you will just make you sadder)

This is the story of a little girl with wide eyes
fighting through storms of broken plates and unforgettable lies
fighting monsters of darkness with a sword of dim light
living hell on earth until she dies

The little girl wants freedom
like any other commoner in this kingdom
because they're all caged by the idea of lonesome
and no one taught them how to prepare for this life so gruesome

This little girl is just a little girl who wants love
but giving love is tough for technically, anyone can enter her cove
and not everyone is going to love the same
and unfortunately there really is no one to blame

Her cove is filled with darkness and she is the only source of light
When she's put out and tired it's quite dark in the dead of night
There's no one coming to light her up again so she has to find it in herself
to get back up again even though she knows it's hard to find it in one's self

There's no one coming, she says
There's no one there
She breathes in a breath of smoke filled shaky air
The darkness is a pool, no knight in sight to come
There's only her
her and her lonesome

Let's talk for a minute.
You think you can't write but I believe you can. Why else would you want to make a book. You didnt just want to compile past writings. That's cheap. Turns out you're documenting your journey too. The ******* ups and downs of you and your mood. Jesus what is wrong with you. I only you knew. Knew exactly how to feel better. In fact, right now, you dont even know what's wrong. Is it the realization of how hard it is to find love. Is it the realization that life is just going to keep giving you just shots of love. Is it building to something? Something that the collection of all this craving will find content in. A love that will last. Or is this a curse put upon you, stemmed from the possible reason and mathematics of how you were conceived. Not even your parents, that two people that are supposed to make sure youre happy and well can give you that love that you want. I dont think they know how to love. and that behavior transferred to you. You were told yesterday, love is a collection of emotions just all coming together at once. But isnt that how you feel alot. Almost all the time. Maybe you should stop falling in love. Like you've never been told that before. But if the ultimate goal to living, or at least to your belief, is to find something or a collection of somethings that can offer you love when you need or at least when you need it most. Dont you have to play the game of give and take. But at this point, how much more do you have to give to get it. Or maybe even if you feel like you're tearing apart again and again, what you're giving is not enough. And one thing about love, there's so many forms of it. Love hides in the acceptance and comfort that friends give. Love runs wild in the arms of a one night stand. Love stands still when you glance into the eyes of your lover. Love bounces when a dog has it's tongue out and it wants you to play with. Love lies in the arms of a parent. What version of the word "lie"? I dont know. And love is so ******* hard. And so ******* easy. You know what, Love is easy it's handling it that's hard. It's so easy to get attached to a person, to let them into your mind multiple times a day to want to give them presents every week, to want to talk to them throughout the whole day, to want to just walk around for hours just sharing stories. I used to crave love much more than this, and I was young, with not much standards about the norms in society. I used to put my all into my crushes. Creepily, if I do admit. I'd wait for them every morning, and every break. I'd do little things just to please them. **** I used to give my all. I want to do that again. To be able to give my love to someone, at least this time to have them accept it. I want to be crazy for someone and all over someone. But now, my love, at least that kind of love is limited to just the rando hookups that I go on just to fill my ****** ***** *****. And it's sooo limited because you're with a stranger, they dont want what you want, you cant show that. And you know what, it is actually possible to find love. Or at least the love you see on the streets and instagram posts. It is. But you have your trust issues, what if this, what if that, this aint it chief, this aint it. You're sooo picky. You couldve found love in the toxic man who manipulated you about his suicidal tendencies. You could've found love in the guy who didnt know what he wanted and just liked the idea of a girlfriend I guess. You could've found love in the guy who just wanted a nice girl to go to pretty places with. But that kind of love aint it, it wouldnt have been fullfilling because the compromise is bigger than the reward. In the end, there's no love. Unfortunately, you're not going to find the kind of love you're looking for on Tinder either. Though it's hitting you a little late just because you struck out that one time and he was more than what you asked for and so you stayed. But there is no love in Tinder. Yet, there is no love in real life either. People dont talk to random people on the street. Or at least not to you, for some reason. No one's going to ask you out on a date. Not if it's not through a screen. Why? Maybe you're intimidating. Maybe you have crazy eyes. Maybe life just doesnt want to give you that love. But at the same time you cant help but hold on to that line in How I Met Your Mother that says your lover is coming as fast as they can. And when they finally reach it'll be the greatest time of your life. And it's such a long wait. You're 19 and already craving that kind of ****, that's unhealthy *****. I dont know if there's anything else to say. It was a good talk. Thank you for your time.

You wake up in a dark room on the second floor of your grandma's house
like little nightmare's you imagine yourself on a ship floating on the ocean marked nowhere
//cut scene//
you've written 2 of these poems, now there's a third?
//end cut scene//
you pull up your phone because it's a room in a room
your heart doesnt feel like getting up soon
the bright screen hurts your eyes, the time displays welll past noon
//cut scene//
are you writing this just for the book? or do you actually want to write this
// end cut scene //
you pull up instagram
where half your feed is soft core ****
like Smino sings, bam bam bam
you know you're quite love lorn
and the emotions these ****** energy stirs,
you're only attracted to all this because it's love fast served
it's love where people are most willing to take and give,
sure there is work involved in the play
but there's always some form of satisfaction at the end of the day
doesnt matter if the person means nothing
in that moment the hugs and kisses mean everything
in that moment, the reality is the visualization of a want built till and for the end of your own dramatification
in that moment, you're two people who are willing to care and work for each other and there's the open interpretation of that situation
there's no need for verbal communication
jus translated sounds of pure emotion
food for the soul
is there a need for advocation
//cut scene//
who's even gonna buy the book? who the **** are you that people would want your book?
// end cut scene //
you roll on you're side
bright screen in your hand
you're closer to the edge of the bed now
just one more step
get up childddd
get up
do your work
why is that so hard
just get up


and after a few more rounds of that, you do
you go to the bathroom
admire yourself and feel the urge to poo
TMIIIIII I know but who caressss
you dont do it anyway, you just stare at your stare
few minutes past, and the thoughts and ideas your brain has been churning gets to you
you feel the charge to create and do so you move your *** out of the bathroom
slowly, but you do

you check your phone again, nothing
you hoped there would be anything to make you feel something
your brain registers the memory of you in the mirror
you looked good today there's that at least
but this self love just feels like you're yourself, pulling yourself on a leash

//cut scene//
*******. this poem is getting long. no one likes long poems stop writing go do your work *******. go **** why you sitting here writing useless things. noooo one's gonna buy this book. you're doing nothing in the end
// end cut scene //

They say the most important thing is self love
as long as you love yourself there's nothing truly bad in the world
that can stop you and hurt you because you have yourself
put yourself on a pedestal because there's nobody else
who'd do that for you, who'll love you like you
and that's ******* true but
when you're the only one who loves yourself
and you find it hard to trust anyone's truer intentions
when you feel like only you see your worth
is your worth valid to only your own opinion
if only you love yourself
there must be something wrong with you
if not why wont others care
or at least bare with you

//cut scene//
ok that was harsh. should it even be in the book. it might scare people. but you want this to be raw right so I suppose it's worth being this vulnerable.
// end cut scene //

anyway you're downstairs now, typing this
you genuinely do want to ****
but you dont want to deal with it
you want to go out and walk around
take in the sounds
of humans vs humans vs nature
pound pounding into your heartbeat and maybe you wont feel so down
you're craving nicotine
and maybe a shot of gasoline
straight to your heart
it's 5.30pm you havent eaten
as usual, why you so weak, you keep letting yourself fall apart
it's 5.30 pm
you have assignments for all of your classes to work on
but you're so stuck in this reality
where you gonna find the strength to carry on
but you put yourself in this reality what's to say you wont leave yourself here till dawn
do you want to move or do you want to ponder
about the many things that are wrong

let's end this like the other two
just to keep up this tying element of poeticity that they don't teach in school
eternal impressions
in your heart,
these scars that mark your depression.

Big eyes and crooked smile
she seems like the kind of girl oh so worthwhile
like she never lost the purity of a child.

In society it's like a prize,
to find humanity confined to it's purest lies.
No one is left innocent, everyone gets chastised
For the ******, they float inside of us
and not beyond our eyes.

we are all broken, torn apart,
put together by our hearts
and once all hope is lost we abandon our tarts,
leave the mad tea party
with a broken heart

yet, we observe, when belief and ego takes over
adults become drunk children hard to get sober
cigarettes and alcohol and drugs to play and play
abusing human bodies, individual, connected or slain

So
Big eyes and crooked smile,
quick breathes, blue blacked knuckles on cursed tiles
pain making her eyes bleed and her lungs fill with bile
heart torn, dreams worn
beat down on the ground trying to make no sound
waiting for a hug, a kiss, a missed look to make her swoon
like she stopped feeling loved once she got an open wound.