My friend lives,
deluded,
in her own world.
*She's lost

A champagne-coloured, sleek, aluminum casing with an apple logo on it.
A smooth white surface,
An alluring beauty.  
A press of a button, the screen is illuminated.
Endless possibilities.
Unlimited choices.

I blindly ***** for your warmth in the darkness.
So cold, so alone.
I find you and I smile.
You seemed to be smiling too but I could not be sure.
I ran my hands along your selender neck and along all your smooth curves.
And then we played throughout the night.
But darling, let the neighbours complain because I am in love with you.
My darling, beautiful.
My violin.

What's in a name?
What's in your name?
Do the sweet lines of betrayal run through your name?
Is there an evil ring to a seemingly innocent name?
Does your name spell out the vindictive and manipulative person you are?
Your name was a trap.
I fell for it the day I met you.
Such a beautiful name.
So beautiful that it disguised the dangerous undertones.
It disguised the warnings.
Coupled with your adorable smile and comfortably warm hand,
which I grasped onto like a life source.
Warm hands that I thought could melt my cold soul.
Warm hands.
Warm eyes.
Warm name.
Bitter aftertaste.

Somehow,
I have no motivation to write anymore.
Writing was the only thing that kept me going,
and now,
I just don't feel like doing it anymore.
It confuses me so much.
I just don't know.

guys, watch this, it's beautiful, it is.

http://www.upworthy.com/7-cowardly-words-from-a-totally-sexist-stranger-sparked-this-cour­ageous?c=mrp1

This is for the forgotten ones
For the in-betweeners
For the never-good-enoughs
This is for my strong people
Who struggle daily to find their footing in a world that seems to take pleasure in seeing them trip
For the second choices
For the I'll-date-her-if-I-have-no-other-options
For those who always feel alone
For my fighters
I understand you and I am so proud of you
It is not easy to live the way you do and yet you are breathing
This is for my forgotten people who simply exist while no one cares
I'm with you and
I care

And when i saw your name there
I no longer felt the oh so familiar
Butterflies in my stomach
Tugging at my heartstrings
Chaining me down
Clamming me up everytime i glnaced at you
Sneaking glances
Doing everything to get your attention
Saying hi when you never really gave a ****
And then I learned more about you,
About differences that we could never overcome
I heard a few negative things about you
And i
Convinced myself that they were all wrong
You were perfect, velvety and smooth
You were you
You could do no wrong
But then i witnessed it
Something so trivial and yet
It shook me out of this trance i was in,
Opened up my eyes to all your flaws
We all have flaws
But some of yours were inexcusable to me.
And then i came across your name again
And i
Felt nothing
And then,
I smiled.

Plastic.
Fake.
Liar.
Cause of my tears.
You broke me.

It is so easy to change our lives. We do not realise just how powerful we are. A thought could revolutionalise the world for the better. If we could just stand up and speak, make up our mind to be the best we possibly can. o stop watching those videos on Youtube, to stop scrolling through Facebook with a blank mind and then snapping out of it at the end of the day only to find that your life reeks of dysfunction and unproductivity and that you wasted an amazing day that you could have spent changing your life.
The butterfly effect.
Your decisions today affect your life tomorrow. Have the choices you made today given you a better tomorrow?

The wind ruffles my hair as I sit atop the hill and stare at what I see.
A normal person would see buildings, cars,
anything you would find in a typical concrete jungle.
However,
I see racism and sexism.
Prejudice everywhere.
People assume.
People speak without knowing what the truth is.
People hurt others intentionally
These people who hurt others do not stop to consider that
their victims are human, like them.
All of us,
mere flesh and blood.
We're the same.
Male, female, homosexual.
Asian, Caucasian, Middle Eastern.
We're all bones, muscles, blood.
We are the same.
There's no need to discriminate.

Hey uhm so therr's this guy who I knew in primary school (sort of like middle school for those of you who live in the US). Now I'm in secondary school (high school) and I follow him to instagram and Twitter and stuff and recently he's been talking about need someone to talk to about life and I really want to help him but I haven't talked to him or interacted with him in YEARS. So, I don't exactly know how to approach this. Sorry if you felt that this was a waste of time. I couldn't ask my friends or family because I know they wouldn't understand and they would jump to the comclusion that I want to get into a reltionship with him when I just want to reach out as a friend. So erm please advise( if you can) and Thanks!!! :))

Oh Bassanio,
why are you such a mystery?
I can't find any evidence,
you're the cause of my misery.

You are a low-life racist,
You nearly killed your friend!
I'll say,
you are a fiend.

Bassanio,
why don't you just die?
Then,
I can gleefully say 'Bye Bye'.

How does someone dare to **** someone else.
How do you bear to look at someone and think,
"I want her even if she won't let me."
I mean, that's what must be going through the ******'s mind, right?
How dare you take away a girl's future?
How dare you?
How dare  you take away her first relationship, or kiss, or even her virginity?
How do you live with yourself?
It's just sick.

I want to cut.
I yearn to smell that metallic scent of blood.
Feel smooth crimson droplets roll down my wrists.
Watch them fall to the floor, into a puddle.
Into the puddle diluted with my salty tears.
Weakling. Can't you even take this much pain?
Biting on my lip,
I press the razor down even more,
still crying.
The blood flow increases to an ooze.
A thin stream of blood flowing down my pale wrists.
I feel free, I feel like I'm in control. Only I can hurt myself.
LIES
I'll never be the only one to hurt myself.
Other people still will.
I no longer want to stick around to get hurt.
I want to move on the other side,
to whatever may be waiting for me.
It would only be too easy
I want to sink into oblivion.
One day I will.
*That day is today

Before the exams started,
all I wanted to do was play.
Now,
after the exams,
all I want to do is study.
The guilt of not studying harder
gnaws at my stomach.
I try to ignore it,
I can't.
Why am I regretting now,
when I could have studied earlier.

i will not stop
not even when everything inside of me
is burning
struggling
fighting
begging to stop
begging to take a break
i will keep pushing on
i will do it
i won't stop
not even if the last shred of my restraint
is gasping for air
saying
please stop i can't hold back anymore
i will appear vulnerable to the world
because vulnerability is not weak
and i'm anything but weak
i will rise again
*resurgam

I like to write poems that rhyme,
Though I haven't gott much time.
Rhyming poems work my mind.
They're one of a kind.

Sometimes they are lame.
The words may sound the same.
The words aren't bombastic, they're tame.
If you find this poem boring, it's Obama you should blame.

Okay, the words are kind of forced in.
This poem should be in the bin.

And yes, this poem is childish.
And yes I can no longer be bothered to make the words rhyme-ish (A for effort?)
But this poem was light-hearted.
Something to cheer me up.
And it make me smile.
:)

I feel like i'm spiralling down a deep hole and rappelling into the darkness and i am doomed to stay there for eternity  i feel like there is no more hope for me i don't feel motivated to live or even type this poem but i had to do it i have to do this i have to study and i have to ace my exams a lack of motivation is not an option at this point in time please someone help me because i have reached rock bottom and there is no way up only smooth walls of rock and i fall back down sliding down these smooth slippery walls everytime i try i have to use my fingers and grip the rock as as hard as i possibly can until my fingers are ****** and my skin is torn and i will claw my way up from rock bottom i will not meet my demise here this is not where i will end there is still a glimmer of hope and i am going to reach out for this glimmer and never lose sight of it for if i do, the consequences are dire

You say nothing as you watch me crumbling
Whispering a defiant 'i'm ok'
Tears streaming down my face
I'm not looking at you
You notice this
You say 'you're not'
I agree silently
I cannot find it within me to talk more
I am exhausted
I do not know how to explain how much i think about dying
I do not know how to seek help
But you know i am crumbling
You see
And you stare
Numbly blankly
Back at me
Hands in your pocket you do nothing
And i plead with you silently to help me
You notice this and you still stare
Numbly blankly
And then i collapse and i disappear
And you say 'what a shame. If only i had known'
And you walk away

Whenever, I watch a scary movie,
I am always afraid of going to sleep on that night.
I have no idea why I watch these movies when I always end up screaming.
I know they aren't real,
ghosts don't exist,
and,
the main character is always so stupid.
If my dog were to refuse to enter the house,
I would know something was up.
Even if I do enter the house,
the moment I see something that is supernatural in the least,
I would go running.
Even if I do choose to stay in the house,
I would not enter rooms when the door slowly creaks open
and I would definitely not open the door when I hear random bang-ings in the middle of the night.
See, the people in horror movies are just plain dumb.
This coupled with the fact that ghosts or the living dead do not exist,
is a clear sign that these movies are fake.
Yet, this does not stop me from being scared.

Do you ever feel like screaming,
but the words don't come out.
I feel like that right now.
I feel like shouting,
like telling the world I'm not okay.
I'm far from okay.
I feel the words clogging my throat,
a burning gobule of emotions bursting with negativity.
I want to scream till I can't anymore.
I want to cry till there aren't anymore tears.
I want to punch the wall till my knuckles are
bruised, ****** and broken
*Just like my heart

You think I was acting depressed?
You think I was looking for attention?
Who the **** do you think you are to make such assumptions?
You say you know if a person is depressed or not.
Who the hell are you,
a shrink?
Well, I don't ******* think so.
***** you and your ******* assumptions because I'm done.
You don't exist to me anymore.

this is just a self-reflection of sorts. I was looking bak at the first poem I wrote basically 2 years ago and I've realized how much I've grown as a person. I wish I still had my first account on here, where I was not anonymous but I had to delete that due to personal reasons. Upon thinking back to the circumstances under which I wrote my first poem on this account, I realize that my problems are actually smaller than I perceive them to be. At the time of said poem, I was facing some stuff at school that I though would be the end of the world but look; I'm alive and healthy 2 years later and I'm doing much better. I've just been too busy recently to write poems because I have some really important national exams this year that basically determine the outcome of the rest of my life.Thank you to everyone who follows me or who has read a single one of my poems in the past, even if you didn't really care about it or even like it at all because you were are part of this process of self-realisation and discovery that I went through and you've honestly changed my life 180 degrees around. I'm definitely much happier and positive than I was 2 years ago. For those who care (if any) : I'll still be writing poems as writing is my passion and I hope to do English or Literature at University (college) level, that is, if I manage to convince my parents (who seem dead set on me doing law) .

I wonder if you ever think of me,
I wonder if sometimes I'm the only one you can see.
Maybe it's just plain fantasy
But, I wonder if we could ever be.
But it's not as good as you thought it would be
because all the shards are on the ground but you choose not to see.

But,darling, we're stepping on the shards.
And we love the pain.
It makes us feel alive.
It takes our minds off from the pain within.
But one day, you could take the pain no more.
You left right out the front door.

Now the shards still take away the inner pain with physical pain.
Just, not in the same way.

Of course.
She's right.
She always is.
I'm the only one who has to 'think logically'.
I'm the only one who has to grow up.
Even her bad grades are my fault.
Go ahead.
Take the blames,
lay them on my shoulders.
Watch me as I struggle.
Mock me as I collapse.

I've already ******* apologised *****. So shut the **** UP. Your voice sounds like chalk against a chalk board. No one want to hear you talk. Oh you were thinner then me when you were my age?? Well you're 48 now *****, not 16 so shut the **** UP!!! ******* you're ******* me off. I'll not answer you back. I'll write a poem about it and brush it off you ain't got nothin on me *****, above you I'll rise. So shut the **** UP.

If only falling asleep were as easy as closing your eyes. If only I didn't have to fight a battle with them. If only I weren't always so exhausted. If only I could sleep without being haunted by your face.

What is a smile?
To others,
a smile is an expression of happiness,
of emotion.
To me,
a smile is an act.
A facade.
To hide my real feelings.
To hide the perpetual frown planted on this face of mine.
Maybe I fake a smile because I want it to remain frozen on my face,
forever.

Each time I step out of my house,
I feel the societal pressures on my shoulders.
Every time someone looks at me,
I wonder,
Am I too fat?
Is there something wrong with my shirt?
Is there something wrong with me?
I feel judged.
I hate feeling judged.
I've given up.
I don't want to conform to society's unrealistic standards.
Why must I shave my legs?
Why must I wear make-up?
If a guy ever says,
" Hey ------ , you're a really nice girl but we can't be together because you don't shave your legs"
Then that guy isn't worth my time.
I will never change to who society thinks I should be

Some days,
I feel sadder or more depressed than usual.
Some days,
I'm suicidal again.
I try not to be but,
I can't help it.
Some days,
I'm just more lonely than others.
Some days I think about my lack of friends and how I have been stabbed in the back by so many.
On those days,
I cry.
I cry silently and secretly.
I cry throughout the day.
Some days,
I cry in school when I see you looking so happy with your new friends.
The ones you left me for.
You left me wounded.
You left me to die.
You never looked back.

Sometimes I feel invisible.
I'm screaming and shouting.
Waving my arms frantically.
No sound.
No one hears.
No one cares.
Grabbing limbs,
Tugging at shirts.
I'm doing everything to be noticed.
Not a person turns.
Tears course down my cheeks,
My throat is sore.
My cheeks, red.
My bair is  in knots and my palms are sweaty.
I'm exhausted, I'm a mess.
I'm about to give up on this life and,
No one cares.

You're a spoiled brat.
Daddy's always bought you everything.
Expensive clothing, expensive phones, expensive holidays.
Daddy's cash even bought you friends.
You think those girls actually like you?
You think they can't see your spiteful ways?
They're there for the $3 macaroons or souvenirs you gift them.
You think anyone who does not wish to hang out with you is below you.
You treat them like dirt.
Every time I say Hi to you, you completely ignore me,
as though I'm not even worth your time.
You only hang out with the 'pretty' girls,
or rather, your definition of pretty.
Underweight while wearing revealing clothing.
I've had enough of you.
Wake up or you'll eventually have no one else and you'll be left on the curb, alone.
But,of course, you'll always have your designer shades!
That's a relief, isn't it?

Suffocation isn’t always hand on neck,
Squeezing, pressing down,
Blocking off air death.
Suffocation is the man with his tie tightened around his tender neck
Every morning 5 am
He is told he needs to work hard (and overtime) to feed his family
Does he not care about them?
Whittle his soul down to a single strand of consciousness,
Again and again,
Exhausted, stressed
Failing relationships,
Doesn’t speak to parents,
Hasn’t seen wife in 3 weeks
But work, yes bills, more important.
Work till you die,
Profit first everything else second.
Suffocation is the student,
Hand squeezing pen,
Eyes shut,
Failed another test,
She didn’t have time to study,
Deadlines,
Homework,
Projects,
overwhelming,
pushing her down,
tries to scream fails can't breathe,
silent cries for help unnoticed,
passion for learning depleted cold and dark and alone,
anxious, trembling, when will the next test be when will the next failure come when

suffocating dying restricted.
not always hand on neck restricting.
Sometimes, it's the restriction of the mind;restriction of the soul.

they creep in slowly
when i least expect it
in school during math
at home when I'm watching a video
in the bus as i stare out of the window
crawl in on all fours
they know what they want
they take it
they leave me empty
the won't leave me alone
not even when i am broken
and crying
and i have nothing left to give
they still find something to take
my mind is an endless hum of suicidal thoughts
whispers
and so i talk louder and
laugh harder and
try to drown them out and
it never works because they are still there
friends look at me with concern
it's just the stress i tell them, exams and deadlines
they buy it
excellent
so everyday i am free
to go home to
suicidal thoughts and chill

" Don't you think that it's boring how people talk"

Beep Beep.*
Another message.
What will it be this time?
A threat?
Malicious gossip?
I didn't know.
I had enough.
I told on you.
I guess I told on me too.
Now there aren't any more messages.
The silence,
it's deafening.

Thank You. Guys, I hit over a thousand views in 4 days. Thank you so much, it really makes me happy to be able to reach out to people.* :')

The girl in the mirror looks lost.
She looks alone.
I see her in the mirror all the time.
What she does inhe mirror, no one knows.
She looks tired,
weary of life.
She looks so fragile.
She looks like a mess.
She gives me nightmares sometimes.
I can't forget her sunken eyes,
and the way every breath looked like it took all her energy.
She looked lonely.
Who is this girl?
Then, it hit me.
*what have I become?

There was once a blind man. Since he was born he was taught by religion to appreciate whatever God had given him. He did. He never saw beauty. People described beauty to him but he could not understand. One day he met a girl. He could tell she was beautiful from the way she talked and laughed. He understood true beauty. Her parents were not as accepting. "He's blind" "He's a *******, an abomination from the heavens. He never should have been born. He's a burden for his parents". They never met again. Yet, the man never stopped appreciating what God gave him though it caused him to lose the person who made him understand true beauty. God never once stopped to help him. As he lay on his deathbed,alone, he thought about the girl and about his disability. He was taught to love the thing that killed him; killed him on the inside. And so, he died, a mere shell of a man. Alone and unloved. Blind and cold.

Today,
miracle of sorts happened.
I woke up in the morning with a fake smile plastered on my face.
I expected it to stay there.
As my parents talked to me,
I was able to maintain that fake cheery tone I had perfected.
Then,
I switched on my phone and I saw that Facebook message from you.
It made my stomach churn in a good way,
and,
then I smiled.
I smiled genuinely.
I had forgotten how a genuine smile felt like but you helped me to remember.
*Thank You

is when every single word you say and write is carefully crafted
to tell people you need help
because how do you tell someone you think about death daily?
and you want nothing more for someone to look into your eyes and say
talk to me
you are not okay
i care
and no one notices
you are replaceable
you are unwanted
they ask you if you are okay because it is polite
but they don't ask you if you are okay
they don't care
and i guess it's just the realisation that at the end of the day,
no one does.
your death simply will not affect them.
so why not?

Bones for fingers,
paper for skin.
Bitterness of my struggle lingers,
I just want to be thin.

*Is that such a sin?

I want this poem to be angry
I want it to be full of hate.
I want to wrap it up and hand it to you.
I want you to read it.
I want you to feel my anger.
My sadness.
A result of your actions.
I want this poem to be able to grab you by the throat and squeeze.
I want this poem to kick you, punch you, slap you, scratch you.
I want this poem to hurt you.
I want to make you cry as you have made me cry.
I want this poem to take all this anger and hurt because
I can't live like this anymore.

You know those days when you lay down and cry because you are just so angry and upset with life and the people around you that you lose control.

You don't know how but tears spring to your eyes and you can't breathe.

And you just want to take anything and crush it and watch it fall to the ground as dust.

And you shudder because it's so cold and
You
Are
Just
So
Tired.

On those days, I think of you and I hope you'll somehow sense that something is wrong and you'll call me but you never do.

time capsules have always struck me as
poignant reminders of time passing
how we tread the earth daily,
as many have done years before us.
the same earth,
the same life-giving soil with new plants every season
history buried beneath our feet
Isn't it amazing to think how a hundred years ago today,
someone of a different time, culture, race, religion
could be feeling exactly as you do now
you have similar hopes and dreams
just wants to achieve their goals;
fire burning in their heart
treading on the soil that you now tread
they don't exist.
but they once lived.
as you do now.
isn't that beautiful?

i'm so tired
of you
of everyone around me
i'm so tired of living like this
i am so tired of pretending to be okay
pretending that i am not falling apart
*******
*******
i am so ******* tired
i just want to curl into a ball and cry
but everywhere i look
i see you and it ******* burns

I let the pain take over my body.
I'm *exhausted

the voice in my mind can't possibly be my own
i've never spoken such cruel words to anyone
why would I do that to myself?
it must be a demon,
roaming my mind,
using  my own voice against me
to make me feel unloved
unwanted
replaceable
urging me, after every small incident
to **** myself
i'm worthless and no one would care after all
to the demon that rules my mind,
you've gone and made yourself at home
4 long years and counting
you've reduced m to tears more times than i can possibly count
i did not invite you in
one day,
during a vulnerable time,
the door was left open,
and you strolled in as though you owned the place
made yourself a cup of tea
made my body your entertainment system
broke me
over
and over
had be subbing till i had no more tears
had me wishing i was dead
it looks like you're her for the long run.
Well, in that case,
we better lay down some rules?
I'm in control and I always will be,
no matter how you may make me feel otherwise
i am the master of my own body.
i have a sad feeling those rules will never be followed
and my mind will continue being its playground
my soul an trampoline
and my body an artwork exhibition