Red eyes
Have protected me
From your lies.

Blurred vision,
slurred speech,
Brought memories into reach.

Do I want to forget,
Or wish to remember,
Regardless, I am upset.

Is it wishful thinking,
Or my mind playing tricks,
All along I knew you were leaving.

You were a giver,
You gave me everything,
Thats why the worst day,
Was when you grew your angel-wings.
You went up to heaven,
And looked down from up above,
You kept on giving,
You gave me all your love.
I make it through day by day,
Because your love absorbs the pain
And knowing that you're watching,
Is all that keeps me sane.
Though you barely knew me,
Or maybe you just don't remember,
You're my guardian angel,
A special gift that I treasure.
You lie within my heart,
Your spirit in my dreams,
When I'm asleep I feel close to you again,
Closer each night, it seems.
Rest in peace and take it easy,
You are loved and deeply missed,
What I would do for more time with you,
Has me sad and kind of ******.
A blessing to many,
A spirit that must live on,
You were one of the greatest I've know,
Nana, I can't believe you're gone.

Poetry is the voice
Of the hearts too damaged
To speak the language
Of a people who are not healed
Or healing, but of those
Who were never tattered to begin with.
It is the opportunity
To convey a message
In the only way known,
By those of us who have
Lost touch with the world
And everyone inside it.
We are not yet healing, or healed,
But in the depths of our wounds,
Some of us more injured than others
Yet all in the same swirling
Bottemless pit of depression
And aching.
Depression- such a powerful word,
Though never drawing attention to oneself
WE are in this abyss
Of nothingness and lonliness
Swirling around each other,
Bumping into each other,  but never leaving.

I thought you would be sobbing when I was gone,
Little did I know that I would be the one
Broken and torn down;
Overwhelmed by everything all around.
Forced to face the fears
That I've had my whole life,
To think this misery could all be taken away
With the stroke of one kitchen knife.
A blade. Jagged on one side like my personality,
Face down in the kitchen drawer-
Let everyone see the smooth side of me,
It's almost appealing.
But it's still a knife,
And the thoughts of its uses
Gives me chills,
But sends others reeling.
Numb. How I wish to spend most nights,
If not caused by a knife
Then some substance or alcohol
Or maybe pills- and being propped up against a wall.
No one would notice-
If I was gone and missing for days,
My seat would be empty in class,
My rotting corpse in my room, but no one would notice.
Cold, chilling thoughts roam my mind,
Masterpieces I create in my head,
Leave me up late wondering,
"What would the world be like, if I was dead"?

If you have too much ***,
You're a ***** and a ****,
If you don't have ***,
You're a liar or a baby, what?
Losing your virginity,
Is something you only do once,
If you do it too late or early,
You're a dunce.
Society pressures us
All differently,
But honestly, I'd rather be a *****
Than a "liar baby".

I want to be remembered.
I feel like it's so generic to say,
But my biggest wish is to be known
After my death;
And for people to wish that
They had the opportunity to meet me,
Have a conversation with me,
And really get to know me as a person.
I want to be accomplished,
Rather than a pile of ash
After death.
I want people to search my name
Looking for a biography online,
I want people to write reports about me
And read books about my life.
I don't want fame and fortune
During my lifetime,
But I want the knowledge of
Being acknowledged and remembered
Well after I am gone.
The wish is the easy part,
Making it happen...
That's a different story.

This society disgusts me.
It's not just the one I live in,
But the entirety of the world.
Not to blow things out of proportion
But really, we're all just dramatic,
Attention ******, that need a reason to stand out.
People claiming they have a disorder
As severe as depression to spark interest.
Not to be an insensitive, *****, but
"Sorry you went through a break up; get over it".
Don't get me wrong, it's not okay to just tell people to
"**** it up", but I first hand know how they feel.
Time will mend your "broken heart",
It's not even broken, just slightly scratched.
So grow up, and get over yourself,
You're not that cool, and you don't stand out,
Oh yeah, except as a stuck up, conceited, *****.