I am the epitome
of what you do not want
in a
girl,
lover,
daughter,
friend.
I appear to be on a different level,
My own little isolation.
I apologize profusely.
I am not what anyone wants.


(d.d.b)

Old habits
ultimately die hard.
People think I've grown,
but I still do the things I did
at a younger age.
I give other students the answers,
let them copy my papers like my life depends on it,
spend more time taking photos of my homework
than actually doing it.
All because
I want them to like me.
Maybe if I give my intelligence away,
my answers,
myself,
they'll like me.
I just want to be liked.
Old habits,
like being the lost little girl
giving out answers in exchange
for a chance at a smile,
ultimately die hard.

(d.d.b)

Sometimes,
I don't know which is worse.
The event that took place,
or everything that happened thereafter.



(d.d.b)

Time is far too short.
Especially when everyday
is a vulnerable struggle.
To get up,
to breathe.
To talk,
to appear calm and 'normal.'
Life is too short
for each moment
to be wasted
on conforming with a society
that I will never belong to.
Life is slow,
and meaningless,
when a time so short
is spent on a desire to fit in.

(d.d.b)

Four nights;
it took four nights for the nightmares to arrive.
A living tragedy, transformed;
a memory repeated in the quiet of the night.

Awaking with a scream.
Heart pounding, eyes glistening,
I think of him.

Him.
The thief of innocence.
A master of violation,
ever present in my mind.
He who stole a construct that
I cannot ever hope to reclaim.

On this fourth night,
I lay, petrified.
This room, this godforsaken room,
and this godforsaken bed,
are both a crime scene.

On this fourth night,
I am only fourteen.
Living with the notion,
that to him,
“No”
had not been an acceptable answer.

(d.d.b)

In a world of right turns
go left-
your mind will thank you
for it at some point
or another.

-d.b

I am
a massive wave of contradictions.
I am
too complex for myself.
I am
a lost soul,
searching for an anchor.
I am
the epitome of meloncholy.
I am
a mere flicker
in a world of glowing stars.
I am
me.
Whether I like it,
or not.



(d.d.b)

I know.
I know I am an easy target.
I break too easily;
my soul is unbearably fragile.
You would think that
my heart would be calloused,
but that is far from the truth.
My pain is still
an open wound.
Bleeding freely
as it is picked and sliced
with elongated knives
of those all around me.
I feel it much too deeply.
I know.
God, how I am forced to know.

(d.d.b)

How?
Oh, logically, how?
Am I truly meant
to waste each day
on subjects I have no interest of?
Teach me.
Teach me how to love myself.
Teach me to soar, to succeed.
Tell me how to rid myself
of my lethargic atmosphere.
Only then,
will I appreciate the knowledge
of elements, equations, and events.
Please,
teach me the way to loving myself.

(d.d.b)

and it is never so apparent
as when
they pick a him, over me.
Worry about a boy, over me;
never me,
never me.

What are you doing
to him, they scream.
worry about his life
before your own.
who cares, who cares?
you surely don't, no,
you put yourself first
and that is not okay, young lady,
not okay,
never okay.

the hearts of boys matter
far more than the fragile mess
filling your chest cavity, yes,
it matters not what they did,
what they do,
how you feel,
them. Them, only,
only for them does it matter.

plaster on a smile,
false positive, love more, care more.
your fault. you made
this happen
to you.
never their fault, no,
never theirs,
for your actions are the problem, see,
young lady, you must compromise;
for the boys,
the boys who matter
much more, forever,
than you.


(d.d.b)

Melancholy thoughts,
and crimson stained long sleeves,
are all I have become.
And that fact makes me wish,
that I were nothing but a corpse,
buried under feet of dirt and roots and insects,
gone.


(d.d.b)

the cold bite of winter's breath
will always sting my skin
but I know that
it will never hurt me quite as badly
as the cold bite of metal
as I drag a sharp razor blade
across my fragile wrist


(d.d.b)

From what I've known,
I know that I know little
on this particular subject.
Because, darling,
What the **** does family
even mean?



(d.d.b)

I am alone.
Do not tell me I am not.
No one is there
when I wake at 3 a.m.,
sweating from the atrocious nightmares.
I stand alone
in crowded rooms.
My eyes fall on no one else
when I am crying,
in pain,
aching.
I am alone.

(d.d.b)

I told you that I would stop hurting myself,
and you told me you loved me.

I guess we both lied.



(d.d.b)

There is so much I want to say
but I do not have the voice
to let the words flow.
There is so much I want to do
but I do not have the will
to allow myself to continue on
in such a state as the one
that I am existing in.

(d.d.b)