These men,
They don't mind sharing us.
They just don't want to know with who.

I didn't have a sweet sixteen.
I didn't have a sweet anything.
But I didn't complain,
I had no right to.
I was a bad girl,
And besides,
Sixteens not all that sweet anyways.

You could fill me with ****,
***** deep in my ***.

You could fill me with ***,
***** dripping down my chin.

You could shove the entire
******* world in my ******,
But I'll still be empty inside.

Everywhere I look, there's an emptiness
where you’re supposed to be.
I told the doctors how I see nothing in everything,
so they prescribed pills to help me see.

My room is always so cold
but your breath was so hot.
I told the doctors I still feel it on my neck
so they gave me more pills to make it stop.

I took the pills for years
but they haven’t helped at all
So I stopped the prescriptions
and started my downward fall.

The doctors will never fully understand
that I will always look for you everywhere I go.
Antidepressants and mood stabilizers are making my mind a
bomb, ready to blow.

I want to write a
beautiful poem
to tell you
I'm going to
**** myself.

But there are
No words
beautiful enough
to describe to you
the way
I'm about to die.

I don't understand the word ‘love’ because
when I was 13 years old I was forced to believe in it as my brother shoved the wrong definition between my thighs.

Being thin
is not going
to fix you,
because no matter
the number
on the scale,
you will still
call me at 3am,
begging for a
reason to live.

Everyone was so consumed in their own sadness that they failed to notice mine.

We always looked so happy but I’m starting to realize we never were. Maybe we were lonely and that’s why we said our “i love you”s . Maybe all the words were empty because I know for sure the promises were. This pain can’t be explained. When you love someone so much, it makes you vulnerable. I gave him everything I had. Every hope, every pain, I showed him my entire past, and I welcomed him into my entire future. I gave him so much.. but he gave me just enough to get by. The stupid part is, I still love him more than life. My heart ******* aches with his absence and it will only get worse with time. We could fix this. We could work together and make this better but he isn’t ready. He isn’t ready for anything. Everything I do is with good intentions for him, but where does that leave me? So so so utterly devoted to a man who won’t take a simple risk to save our relationship. He says he doesn’t know who he is and he is still figuring it out, but he knows one thing for sure. He is certain he wants to be with me. Yet how in the **** should I believe that? He changes his mind like the weather. One minute he loves spring and the next he wants to be frozen to the winter floor. But does he realize that whatever he chooses, I will be there too? If he wants flowers and sunshine then that is where we will go. If he wants to freeze in the snow, well then I guess I will be just as cold. He needs his privacy and time to himself. He needs structure and to have rules to follow. He says he want a forever, but he puts no effort into creating one. I want to go with him, no matter where it may be. But it seems to me he would much rather leave on his own. Why can’t he think of me for once. Why does he think it is okay to leave me in this burning hell without him. How is this called love. How dare we smile and pretend things are okay when in reality I can’t even breath. I have given this man so much of my heart and I have look past every odd quirk he has, yet he can’t give me what is best for us both. This relationship was all I had left. These pictures were my favorite. But its all down the drain now. He was my everything, my future. But now all I see in my future is a bottle of clonazepam and a nice warm bath, praying my body liquidizes enough to flow down the drain with all these emotions.

I have tried to forget you.

                          *But it's just to hard to forget when your *** wont wash off of my favorite sweater.

I write poetry and my hands shake a lot. I'm the product of a 15 year old drug addict and a 20 sum year old college drop out. I was born into a family who normalized ****. Now I'm an 18 year old coming to terms with childhood abuse and abandonment fear. Recently diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, something I'm not sure I'll ever over come.
So this is me. A high school drop out, unemployed, battling all forms of addiction, at war with too many demons.


Craving an up.

This is not a poem. This is a series of events that has happened in the past months.

Starting with last Summer:
I ****** over 20 people in just 3 months. I was ******* anybody who gave me even a second glance. It was usually random guys on the internet, and one day one of those guys held me down in my own bed and choked me. But that didn't scare me off from doing it again. Every day I had a new person in my bed, and it felt so normal to me considering I have already slept with over 60 guys and I'm only 17. But towards august I started to want a relationship. I found a guy I liked named Brandon and I tried everything to make him like me, but soon as we had ***, he never talked to me again.
At the end of September I was finally getting a little control over myself when I met a guy named Erik. He was 18 and graduated, more accomplished than half the guys I have been with. We talked for a couple weeks and on October 3rd he asked me to be his girlfriend. I laughed so hard and was even a little angry. Why the **** would he want to date me? He knew about my tendency to self harm and he knew I was unstable. He said it was cute when I laughed, and when I finally understood that he was serious, I said yes. That night after he left, I cried for hours. I couldn't help it. All I could think was I did not deserve a nice boy like him. As the days went by, things were great. I wasn't cutting and I had somewhat stable moods. But then bad things started happening again.

In the middle of October, Brandon died in a car crash. The last time I saw him was the day he ****** me. It was raining when he drove me home and I told him to slow down, but he looked at me and said he is the safest driver I could ever meet. But I guess he was wrong because now he is dead and his car is in pieces.

When Brandon died, I felt so ******* guilty. I found out about his death like literally 5 minutes after I finished having *** with Erik. I was starting to get bad in my mind again but I didn't tell anyone.

About a week later, my ******* cat died.

Erik and I had started to argue a lot more by then and on my birthday, October 21, he gave me mono. What a ******* way to celebrate my birthday right. I was throwing up for weeks and unable to eat. This went on until early November when we got some even more ****** up news.
I was pregnant.
They said I would have been 3 or 4 months and based on the dates, the baby probably wasn't Erik's. We fought every single day. He got kicked out of the Navy and suddenly it was all my fault. He said I was selfish for keeping it. I was so excited to have the baby and be a mother, to grow the **** up and move on with my life. The second week of this month I announced that I was pregnant. And yet again, more bad things happened.
The day after I told people, I started bleeding really ******* bad. It hurt more than anything I have ever experienced. I went to the ER and they couldn't give me any direct answers, so I waited 3 days until I went to my OB/GYN. Erik and I sat in the doctors office waiting to be treated, when soon as the doctor walked in he told me I had a miscarriage. I held it together and fought back tears until we started to leave the building. I was crying so ******* hard I couldn't breath. I feel like a part of me has been taken away and I can never get that back. I feel incredibly betrayed by my own body. My heart shattered as Erik had no emotions towards the situation. All he would say is "I'm here for you." or "You can get through this." After the miscarriage, he got put back into the Navy. By the end of the day I started to realize, I am the only one who can feel the pain of this loss, and I am going to be in this constant battle with nobody but myself.
People started to think I lied about the pregnancy because I lost the baby a day after I announced it.

I was a ******* mess for all of last week. I didn't go to school or even get out of bed. I only went to school last Friday, finally starting to feel a bit better, excited to see my best and only friend. But as you probably guessed, that didn't go well as usual.

My best friend got kicked out of school and sent to the alternative one in another town. She was all I had, she was my support system. I was upset about her leaving me and it hurt pretty bad. But I made it through the day and didn't have a complete break down.

The next day, 12/13/14 , was Erik's birthday. We went to Minnesota for shopping and it was actually an overall ok day. When we got back home I checked my Facebook and my entire body froze.

I had known a guy named Ben for about a year, he was the sweetest guy I have ever met. Last winter we were both lonely and desperate to fill some type of void within ourselves. So I guess we thought if we ****** all the time then we might start to feel a little less numb. As the seasons changed and summer approached, we realized that having *** in a cemetery parking lot was far more draining that fulfilling. Ben was the kind of guy who would do anything for anyone. He has been there for me whenever I needed him, no matter the time of day. I just really wish we had stayed friends...

Because the first thing on my Facebook news feed was the announcement of his death. Ben, the guy with a heart of gold, committed suicide. I have cried every night this week. He had told me he was suicidal a few months back, I tried to help but he shut me out and we never saw each other again. I didn't go to the funeral and I regret it more than anything. I should have said good bye. I should have never stopped talking to him.

So far this week I have held it together pretty well. Until today at least. While sitting in class I got a message from my best friend. She told me she wants to die. In august she had tried to **** herself and nearly succeeded. That message just ripped me to shreds.




Everyone is giving up, and there isn't a **** thing I can do to save them.

He gave me an entire solar system
when all I asked for was a star.

All he gave me was a star
when I needed an entire solar system.

My phone buzzes with a text
His eyes dart over, blood shot red.
The angers coming out, palms start to sweat.
I always begged him not to do ****.
"Who the ******* textin! Let me ****** read!"
This is how it starts, manipulating my heart,
And beating till I bleed.
I say "***** you don't even own me.
You barely even know me!
Your a ****** fiend and a ****** who claims to only smoke ****,
but I know youll never get clean.
Youre an unemployed mommy's boy at the age of 23.
Stop slapping me around and be the **** you claim to be.
If your so ******* then why don't you **** me?"
Suddenly I've got a rope around my neck being dragged across the floor.
His eyes go black as he dishes out more.
Now I'm in the middle of the street,
how the **** did I get here? 
I never moved my own feet.
He tackled me to the pavement and I started to scream.
There's a man on the sidewalk ignoring my pleas.
The cops showed up but I denied all these things.
He's sitting in jail but I'll never press charges.
He's got a couple felonies and they found needles in his apartment.
I know he's dangerous but deep down he's sweet.
He only hit me a little, and never put me towards death.
Everyone hates woman that stick up for their beating so I'll lay it to rest.
Maybe my minds just distorted from trying to save a monster on ****.

I love Christmas,
but I hate greed.

And as I get older,
I'ts getting harder
to tell the difference
between the two.

I am not a waste of space,
I am the entire solar system.

He didn't grow angel wings and go to heaven. He put on an astronaut helmet and found peace in the stars. A tiny soul floating through the galaxies, just waiting for mommy to join him. His dreams were to big for this planet. Curiosity, love, adventure, and fearlessness. He was soaked in those traits as he grew in my womb. The unknown was calling and I don't blame him for answering. He was concieved by two souls who desperatly wanted more than life can offer. We created something too beautiful for human form. All I can do is hope that the night sky is full of kindness. It brings peace to know he left this earth knowing nothing of pain. An artist like his mother, I know my son is painting constelations in the sky and sprinkling stardust over my head. One day I'll have the guts to put on a helmet of my own, and he can show me the universe through his eyes, resting in my arms for eternity.

When you're first admitted
You'll lie through your teeth
You'll swear you don't belong here
You'll say you don't need help
But as days turn into weeks
And weeks turn into months
You'll begin to realize
Your house isn't a home
Your dad isn't a father
And the mirror lies to you.

Do you even understand what "broken" means?
Do you even know how "broken" feels?
You have your pains and I have mine,
but these things that cause our heart aches are so different.
This isn't the "I might have been molested when I was really young but I don't remember" kind of pain. This is the "he came into my room at night and I still remember everything" kind of heart break.
And I am not putting your pains down and saying they are any less than mine, but how can you understand this feeling of heaviness on my chest when your lungs are always full of air? Maybe your lungs are stronger than mine, or maybe mine are just a little more burnt. But what I'm saying is, parts of me are broken that I never even thought could break.

I would love you if I could,
but I swear to god
his hands still glide over
my body in the night.
And his breath still
warms my neck when I'm alone.
I still feel his eyes watching me as
I shower.
I still hear him crying saying he's sorry.
But most of all
I still hear myself telling him its okay.

I love you more than anything in this world
but how am I supposed to show it when
every day it feels like I'm being ***** all over again.

When you told me you loved me
I thought that meant every part.
But when I told you I was pregnant
you started choosing which parts deserved
to be loved
and which parts did not.

"I think you're beautiful. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

No.
Not when you use the same word to describe every other dark haired, light skinned woman.
Not when you look at me and say
"Of course I think other girls are prettier than you."


"But I still think you're beautiful."
Stop.

"So my words are just empty to you?"

*Of course.

The drugs
                         loved me
more than
                             you
ever did.

I called him daddy in bed,
but I didn't think he would leave me
the same way my father did.
Now I'm lying here
holding myself at 3 AM
because God knows
neither of them will do it.

Dear Baby,

Your daddy doesn't want you,
and I am deeply sorry for how weak of a father you have.
I'm sorry he is so angry,
so scared,
so unwilling.
I'm sorry he won't love you,
but Baby,
he doesn't love me either.

I'm not even sure if I love me anymore.
*You're all I have, please be strong.

You need to understand that no matter how beautifully the poem is written, no matter how relatable those black and white letters are; every word I've ever put on paper has been a product of mental illness. I don't care how deep it sinks into your chest, how long it resonates on your brain or how amazing it is that I have somehow put every unspoken thought you've ever had into 6 small words. Not once have I created a poem while thinking, "This one will surely paint a glorified picture of self harm, drug addictions, rehab visits, repeated rapes, abusive boyfriends and five years of therapy into the readers mind." Never would I write with such intention and never should my words be read for such a purpose. If you are searching for poems with glitter masking the truth, you have come to the wrong place. So if you have the guts to read my poetry, then I dare you to have the guts to read with the same pain it was written with. I refuse to write with raw, bold, and honest words only to wrap a pink ribbon over the bloodshed just to earn the title "tragically beautiful." The words I spill out come from a dark world. Admire them in purest form, ugly and appalling to the eyes.  Why would you want to romanticize the filth that I pour from my mentally ill mind?

My wrists still hurt from
the day you grabbed my arm
and my cuts opened up
underneath my sleeve.
I pulled away
but I didn't mention the pain
because how do you tell someone
who has never shed a drop of blood in
their life,
that every part of you is bleeding.

Tell me that not every guy will
leave black tar in my chest,
Assure me that not every guy
is pollution to my soul.
Promise me that I won't be
coughing up their ashes forever.

So go ahead,
fill me with too many "I love you"s.
Inflate my lungs until they want to burst.
Teach me what it's like
to inhale something that won't hurt.

Show me what it's like to have clean air in my lungs.
*Let me breath you.

Wrap your arms around me,
lets mold ourselves like clay.
Two separate pieces,
Both an off shade of grey.

Wrap your heart around me,
Let's paint ourselves like trees.
You are yellow; I am blue,
But together we make green.

Wrap your soul around me,
Lets write ourselves a poem.
I lose myself in words
Yet you always bring me home.

You stopped reading my poetry, so I decided to stop writing you poems. All you gave me were rocks to fill my pockets, although the weight kept me grounded for a while. After all, I was constantly drifting away.
I told you I was afraid of the dark so you made sure to keep my life bright.
Then you left.
Lights out.
You never noticed that even 6 months after our break up you're pictures so hung on my wall. Memories are of you are like horror movies and love stories bleeding on my carpet. You made me believe I was making something out of nothing. But before I could blink you disappeared. I begged you to stay but you shut the door in my face. No matter how hard I pushed you wouldn't open the ******* door. I didnt want to go anywhere else because you're the only home I've ever known. So what was I supposed to do when you locked the ******* door? Where do I go when "home" doesn't want me anymore? Broken and scared, I built myself a shelter out of sticks and drug addicts. Now that's where I stay. You swallowed the words "I love you" rather than feeling them get caught in your throat like blood filling up your lungs.  Trust me when I say I can't get the words off my ******* tounge. Of all the things I've left unsaid, I just wanted to scream, choose me. Choose the girl who loves you more than herself. Choose me, because of all the people in the past, future and present, I would still choose you. I wanted to beg, whatever you do, just don't leave me the way my father did. But you are long gone and I'm left to wonder why. Why didn't you choose me? I thought it was clear you should choose the girl with 7 knives sticking out of her chest, still fighting. Why wouldn't you choose the girl crying on her knees, begging,  DON'T LEAVE. But I don't blame you for choosing the ocean.  After all, who wouldn't? I'm a ***** puddle a dog wouldn't even drink from. The walls even started talking to me. Every night whispering "what if". I thought I would be devastated when you left. And I was. For months and months and months. I was a ******* disaster. Leaving pieces of my heart everywhere I went in an attempt to leave you in the past. Yet I just lost more of myself rather than you. Some nights you still coat my pillow in tears. Yet I'm thankful that some day I might forget the sound of your voice, I'll still remember the way you held me as I cried while I opened up about my ****. I'll still remember walks through the park and making love beneath the trees... My memories of you are warm like fire, like growth, evolution, the way nature will keep existing long after our love dies out. I always begged for you to worry about me, to wonder why I was drifting away. But when you didn't fight for me, I started using my own fists. Now I'm coping with the reality that our hearts don't stop beating even when our lovers have stopped giving us reasons to live. I know this is over. I won't beg you to come back, because I know- I already know. This won't last. But all I needed was for you to act like every thing was okay, until I could learn how to live when everything isn't. I still miss you, and oh god, the way our legs tangled together under the covers, my head on your chest. But lately I've been crying when I think of the way you touched me because your touching someone else.
So if you are trying to read between the lines of my poetry, if you are finally wondering how I'm doing:
I'm learning to live without you. Most nights my heart aches. Sometime I think I should have crashed my car the night I was driving alone. But the truth is, I seen the brightest of days with you. And with a little patients, I'll see bright days again. When it comes down to it, I will be okay. I will be more than okay. With or without you.

Today dad told me
"Drug users deserve to die."


Tonight I told dad I love him
And he didn't say it back.

Call me a *****,
but we both know you enjoyed it.

Pretend you don't know me,
But I've still seen you naked.

Tell me I'm worthless,
But I was worth it that night.

Say what you wish,
But we still had ***.

Maybe the reason we spend night after night
staring at a blank paper
is because the words we so desperately need to write,
are words that have not yet been created.

Im never good enough unless I let people **** me.
I thought when I met my boyfriend he would actually respect me.
But If I don't get naked he just neglects me, why do I need to have *** for him to love me?

He says the drugs turn him on,
but he can't stay hard enough to get me off. Give him some lotion and ****,
all interest in me is lost,
now hes anything but soft.

Does this mean I'm gross?
Should I shave better or wear less clothes? Im over reacting, I know.
******* I hate all drugs,
I can't stand the lows.
Do I just let him touch me?
I can't spit out the word no.
My body belongs to him, but I'm sick of going with the flow.
I need to make it clear I have a voice of my own.
Falling in love with him gave me a rare sense of hope.
I thought I would finally have some control,
then I realizef I'm still a piece of meat,
an eager to please ***.

I felt his love was pure and I wanted it all to myself.
I thought dating a man who preaches how much he cares meant it mattered what I felt.

I got away from the party rapes and bottles of *****.
I thought a relationship meant i would finally get to choose.
Why am i still being used?
Maybe he'd understand after stepping in my soulless shoes.
I can never win, the outcome is inevitable, I was born to lose.

So do I lay down and pretend I want the ***,
or watch him choose **** when I refuse to say yes.
Would he notice me if I had implants in my *******?
Maybe I need to be a tan blonde with no heart in my chest?
We all know those women can **** the best,
I can't compare so I just lay down to rest.

And I don't mean going to bed,
I mean 6 feet under with a grave stone at my head.
Even from the casket all I can smell is ****,
the reason for his shiny upper lip covered in sweat.
I asked him to wait on taking a hit,
but he smoked it and failed my little test. It's obvious its the drugs he loves best.

I needed to see if what I felt could over power his want for drugs.
Of course he didn't choose me, but his drugs left pain in my lungs.
I didn't know I would fall apart so young. It's looking like all of my abusers have won.

I should of just put out because now he wants to sleep on the couch.
I should have let him *** in my mouth, because now he's scraping a pipe and I'm just trash waiting to be thrown out.

But that's just how I feel on the regular,
so used to being alone, even with him across the room,
this feelings so familiar.
I promised another abusive relationship would never happen again
but his actions are scary similar.

I know he won't ***** me over,
but I'm a girl who let a drug user abuse her. A girl beaten in the street, wishing he would shoot her. Forced to be a freak in the sheets, a girl who said yes even when it bruised her.

Is it happening again?
Or am I just selfish for not pleasing my man?
Now I'm over thinking
Deep down I know his love is an ocean surounding my land.
My protector, drowning out all of the bad.
After all, he even held me while I screamed with a blade in each hand.
I try to remind myself this but my brain calls *******.
My mind is built in a shape that reality doesn't fit.
So when he says I'm his baby I can only hope he means it.
Fearing he will think I'm not worth it, I work so hard to stay atttactive.
Going days without food, I eat like a ******* rabbit.
I'm dizzy and might lose consciousness,
my sleep pattern is ******* eratic.
This migraine has my brain mushy and muffled like tv static.

This pain in my skull is dragging me to sleep,
my body aches, from my soul to my feet.
I should have opened my legs and tried not to shake.

I denied him what he wanted,
thinking my man would love me fully clothed.
I can't help but wonder,
is it wrong to keep my legs closed? 
I dont ******* know.

Being in love has left me on the floor cold and shaking,
other men see what they want and take it. Never been given an option,
so used to my body being taken.
He made a promise that he's different, but what if saying no is what'd break it?
I thought a relationship would give me more choices.
Yes or no,
a question I was never asked by my dozens of rapists.

It all feels like a repeat playlist,
I know he loves me and I'm trying to embrace it.
But even completely clothed,
I'm feeling helpless and naked.

Give him everything you are.
Strip yourself to bare skin with chills on your spine.
Wishbones and collar bones,
your ribs protruding through your shirt.
He doesn't like fat girls.
So love begins on your knees in a bathroom stall
10 minutes after lunch.
Stomach acid burns your esophagus.
"I wonder if his **** going down will hurt as bad as ***** coming up?"
Be skinny.
Be everything he dreams.
Quiet, soft, subtle, pretty and confused.
Be this, that, and everything in between.
Be willing.
Be recyclable.
Be trash.
Broken glass in your retinas,
don't look him in the eye.
Let him have every part of you,
but hold back the feelings.
Be emotionless.
Be empty.
Now hope to god its enough for him to stay.
Ignore every part of you screaming
"he doesn't love you".
Unbutton your pants, pull off your *******
and reply,
"But I can make him."

I want a bouquet of the prettiest flower you can find with a hand written poem wrapped around a stem. We can go to the park and you can bring me my favorite snacks and watch the clouds float through the sky as we point out which ones look like a boat or a car. Then let’s climb a tree until I climb so high I get scared and you have to help me down. Let’s play in the snow even though it’s all melting and lets get soaking wet in the slush. Lets jump in puddles and let the water soak into our shoes. Kiss me and then run fast as you can in the other direction so I have to chase you. Lets race down the road in our wet clothes and shivering skin. When we get too cold we will go home and change. Tell me how beautiful I look as I strip off my damp shirt and unbutton my jeans. Lay me on the bed and make love to me as you look in my eyes. *** on my tummy and laugh with me while I squirm as it drips into my belly button. Then help me get dressed again and surprise me with dinner. Walk me to the car and open the door for me. Take me on a date to Olive Garden. Play sappy love songs that remind you of me on our way. When we get to the restaurant, make sure you ask for a booth because you know how much I hate tables. Buy me noodles and shrimp and rub your feet on mine underneath the table. Steal bites of my dinner and I’ll steal bites of yours. I'll drink all my Dr. pepper right away so you'll let me drink all your water. Hold my hand when we leave and on our way home pull the car over. Let’s look at the sky and talk about aliens and how we don’t belong on this planet. Lets talk about where we really came from. Tell me what star is the brightest and show me the constellations. Let’s talk about this aching humanity and how desperately we want to fix it but don’t have any idea how. We'll yell at the planets and ask them to take us back. Then take me home and watch me take off my make up. Tell me how great I look with my hair tied back and natural skin. Lay on the couch and I will sit on your lap while you tell me stories of our future as cartoons play on the tv in the background. Listen to me giggle at spongebob while you braid my hair. Kiss my neck and tell me I'm the only princess you will ever need and someday I will be your queen. Tell me you want to marry me and reassure me that I’m not as worthless as I think I am. Tell me I didn’t deserve all this pain then listen to me and let me cry. Support me and cry with me. Wipe my tears and say you love me. Tuck me into bed and hold me until I fall asleep. When I wake up in the morning I want to smell your morning breath and kiss you for 30 minutes straight.
Don’t just say you love me. Do something about it.

I was a train wreck
And he was a sinking ship.
I had already crashed,
and I was already burning
But he still had time,
he was only a little damp.

Its so obvious to everyone
Looking in that all he
has to do is swim to shore.
But he's so sad that
he thinks his only option
is to drown.

I told him that he doesn't
have to sink,
just like I didn't have to crash.
But he told me to stop talking
and to go start fire to someone else,

But at night while
we talk on the phone
I pull him from the tides
and he extinguishes my flames.
I tell him this is how family works
but in the morning he jumps right
back into the water
and lights a match to my heart.

Everything around me is falling apart,
and I am trying my best to hold it together,
but I only have two hands.

We were both in such a dark place,
looking to feel anything.
And while you were looking,
I guess you found me.
We tried to **** happiness into each other,
**** the sadness away.
But no matter how many nights of
hot moans and heaving breathing on my neck,
nothing changed how we felt.
I found my way out of that hell,
but you buried yourself in it long ago,
but today your body joined you.
And I know I can work magics but
oh my gosh Ben,
not even I can **** the life into you now.

6 months ago I ******* lost my mind
alone on my bathroom floor,
covered in blood.
Today I would be 9 months pregnant
and the man I made that baby with
is just as gone as my sanity.
Did everyone ******* forget?
Why do we avoid that topic?
Why can’t anyone look me in the ******* eyes anymore?
Why didn’t I ever hear “I’m sorry for your loss”?
Why THE **** didn’t i get condolences?
Because nobody gives a **** when you lose a wanted pregnancy,
that's why.
No one gives a **** when your alone on the bathroom floor covered in blood and in so much pain you *****.
It went from "congratulations, I'm so excited for you!"
to "Well, at least you lost it before it was, like, human??"
Would people still say that if I had had an abortion?
No, I would be called a monster.
But since I wanted to keep the baby,
I'm just being to emotional over the loss of something that
"was barely even there"
How ****** up is that?

Well that pool of blood was a part of me,
and just as human as my mind makes it to be.