I don't want stars to be named after me
or children reading my tales in history.

I just want to leave a mark
somewhere
or maybe on someone
that will
be immortal,
shifting great things
silently.

let's stop saying we don't care
because we do, and it affects us
and we can't say we won't let it bring us down
because that's admitting it's a bad thing
let's instead embrace it, embrace this life
take those ******* tests and do your ******* homework
like your life depends on it
and ******* enjoy it, why the hell not?
I don't want it to be written on my gravestone that
"She was tired of everything and gave up happiness"
or that "She wasted a good portion of life wishing it was better"
but rather "She was blessed and she was grateful".
Even doing nothing is something. Even any day at all
is still a beautiful day.

The color of the sky at 6:22 am
Reminds me of drowning
In the depths of your eyes
While reviving at the sound of your voice

BUT NOBODY TOLD ME THE FUNERAL NEVER ENDS.

IT'S BEEN ELEVEN YEARS NOW, AND THE CASKET'S STILL LOWERING.

*"LEAVE ME HERE MOM. LEAVE ME HERE. I'M DEAD TOO."

I walk down the road
Cars flashing by
Do you see me
Can you hear my screaming insides

I walk down this road
People passing by
Can you see this
The crimes Committed in my mind

I speak loud
I speak low
I told you everything you want to know
But do you want to know this
Do you want to know me
Coup d'état in flesh

rainbows and wars mesh
walking in a dress
Do you want to know
This coup d'état in flesh

I reach for the stars
but I'm a mess
I aim for your heart
But I miss

You can't define me
cause am a coup d'état in flesh

And so I walk down this road
I keep walking nothing more nothing less
Can you walk with this
Rainbows and wars mesh ?

Trees are often more solum than humans,
Their roots deep within the earth,
Yet they leave with the sudden breeze,
Nothing can make them stay,
They bend, but not break,
Are not swayed by the human race,
Trees are my elders,
Mother,
Father,
Brother,
They see the world through different eyes,
Look,
I use to dance for them,
Bare feet on solid ground,
The wind the only instrument,
Me and the Tree's only sound,
We'd have great times,
Until you chopped them down,
Mother,
Father,
Brother,
No where to be found,
You gave me this wasteland full of useless things,
When I walk across the concrete,
I feel their hallow screams,
Buried beneath the pavement a couple feet down,
Your wonderland of useless things,
In this pointless town,
The wind still calls for its lovers,
No longer intertwined at night,
He bounces off buildings ,
Frightening little kids,
There's no such thing as love,
Just axes and fire

Today, I am sick.
My mental illness is shaped like a prison
and I am in the waiting room
wanting to ask
"What are you in here for"
like
what kind of crime has your head committed
that you are trying to lock it up
with prescriptions
and weekly meetings filled
with uncomfortable confessions
and numb palms from sitting on your hands for too long.
They say it's like playing in traffic,
a red-light-green-light game
where we beg for help
but don't know how to move
when we're asked to explain how we got here.
Do you even remember
what you're running from anymore?
Tell us about the days
where you can't tell if waking up
is a trench or a hill.
What has your head told you to do
and have you done it?
How did it feel when it was over?
Did your head congratulate you
when you were done?
Did you get a prize
like new scars?
Or three more handles of liquor?
The last time you prayed
did you have trouble unlocking your fingers?
Did the weight of God
keep your hands closed tight
in hopes that you wouldn't forget him
like the last time you saw Him
in the bottom of the pill bottle
and you smiled back?
Everyone here says the word Friday
like it hurts
because we know that the weekend is here
but we just can't seem to feel it.

Today we are sick
and nobody notices because our noses aren't running
we aren't openly bleeding in front of the one's we love
we do it in secret
just in case they ever catch us.
Today, we wanted them to catch us.
Stick out their hands
like a safety net
but it doesn't matter what height we fall from
because bones hitting bones
like a head on car collision
will never feel like warm sheets
blanketing our bodies
but we can't help but wonder
if the sheet they will cover us with
after they find us
will be warm too.

Today we are tired of being sick
tired of waking up looking like police chalk lines
tired of walking into the therapy rooms
like they are our parish
but we're too afraid God might smite us on the way in.
We shouldn't have to flinch
when certain words are said
that pull us back loading gun
but are too weak to pull the trigger.

Today WE are the triggered,
the empty promise of tomorrow being filled
with another prescription
another drink
another list of second hand hope
coming from someone who is probably
still trying to remember what it says.
We would rather tiptoe between eggshells
and take our time
than let you know we are struggling.
We are STRUGGLING.
And it makes us so very tired.

So today I am tired
and I will tell you that
instead of reminding you
that every day I am sick.