Unwarranted guilt crushes you
Until you can't feel anymore.
First it's intense pain
Then it's utter numbness
No one tells you that after it shocks
It leaves you empty
To chase some sort of hope you've lost along the way
No one tells you guilt is not something you feel
It's something you are
Converting your mind to darkness
Before you know where you exist
Whether in a lover's arms
Or between your abuser's legs
No one tells you that even though it wasn't your fault
You will believe it was
You will hate yourself for thinking that way
Because it hinders you from healing
No one tells you that even though you live in a bubble
Frozen and devoid of emotion
Breathing is still hard
Not to feel the air moving and passing through your lungs
But to consciously have to keep it functioning
To keep going.
No one tells you physical symptoms occur
And it will take you days to notice the problem
Inability to move from your slumber
Check
Nausea every time you leave the house
Check
Recurrent headaches and migraines
Check
And yet
Nothing hurts anymore
No one tells you the reason you can't feel a thing
Is because you're not living
Is because you're barely surviving
Is because you're already dead.

It all started when I was four
and it came with boys holding buttercups beneath girl's chins
and chasing in endless circles
and my skirt was a little too long
and my face was a little too round
to chase them too

I started sitting indoors and painting scenes
'cause I couldn't run like the other girls could
but four year old boys don't like brushes and  blue skies
they like little girls with flushed rosy cheeks

And when I was six
I couldn't sit inside anymore
it was time to go out and face the boys that called me fat
and try to be a rosy cheeked little girl too
but I just got flustered when I heard the laughter

But at least kids are honest
and I knew I was not wanted

By the time I reached nine
I kept my eyes glued to the ground
when I stood with my mother and listened
to my grandfather drop poison into her ears
and told her that her daughter was a monster
and that's why I didn't cry at his funeral

But at least he was honest
and I knew I was not wanted

Things changed when I turned eleven
self-loathing stayed the same
but the new boys were all skinny compared to me
and they did not hesitate to point it out
although quietly
and subtly
more awash with gasps from choking back revolting laughter
that got caught in the back of my throat and turned to tears
I never did cry in public

And the way I walked through the halls was a carefully crafted way
to make myself smaller
but they still plucked me out and told me
'You're so pretty'
(laced with sarcasm)
'Be my girlfriend'
(prolonged by a smirk)
I always kept my mouth shut

And at least kids are honest
at least I always knew I was not wanted

By age fifteen I was so obsessed with mirrors
that I carried one in my hand at all times
I'd tried every makeup technique I could find
and my mother was sad that my blonde curls were gone
now straight and brown to fade into the background
I never knew why this attracted boys
but for once I was glad I looked like everybody else

I was hearing 'you're so pretty' with a genuine tone
from boys who flirted for fun
but I didn't understand
and I thought I was special
and I thought I would marry every one who called me pretty
and we'd have three children and a dog

What I didn't understand was why every night ended with tears
because I was finally feeling the way all the rosy-cheeked girls did
but maybe it was because kids are honest
I preferred to know when I wasn't really wanted

When I was 16 I felt like a woman
because I'd had a history with boys who were *******
and this is how I thought womanhood should be
every night I rubbed three years of makeup from my face
and removed my push-up bra
and said goodnight to the boy that made my heart skip
and woke up the next morning knowing I would be ignored

I wished people would just be honest

At seventeen, I fell in love with a man
who called me his little girl
and made me feel like the rosy cheeked child
I always watched and envied
I fell in love with the way he threatened to leave me when I forgot something
and the way he slapped me
and I fell in love with how he taught me that it was okay for me to be *****
in every sense of the word
because I was the tiny little girl
with the skirt just short enough
and the cheeks just red enough
to be wanted

With a nervous grip, the girl picks up the paintbrush;
She glances at this boy's life, a blank canvas that gives her a rush.

She asks his favorite color; he says it is always baby blue.
So she listens to his preferences and across the canvas the paintbrush flew.

When she looks at the monochrome array, she holds such disdain
For she is an artist who cannot stick to such colors mundane.

Eventually she pulls away from the baby blues,
And gives him vibrant colors and vivid hues.

She fills his world with a colorful glow,
And puts her heart and soul into giving him a rainbow.

I have always struggled in all grades of school    
Teachers always thought of me as the angry fool    
    
I love to read, I love to draw and I love to write,    
But no one won when they got me to actually fight    
    
So very lonely, I dreaded going to school everyday    
There was no one to stop that in a loving way    
    
No one understood my issues that had yet to be reveled    
I had yet to learn that what was broken could be healed    
    
No one cared to know what was the matter with the freak    
That knowledge was not for the average person so weak    
    
I grew stronger mentally each day, my mentality growing hard    
I didn't know that in the future I would be given a lucky card    
    
A card called Lincoln, the home of the Phoenix    
People don't always go willing there, and few actually picks    
    
Almost in the center of a town I didn't really know    
There is a school like no other school in the USA, you'll wish you could go    
    
Once you hear how the teachers actually help you    
How the food is kinda good most days and people actually care, it's true    
    
I didn't believe it at first, no, not at all    
I didn't talk to anyone; I hid in a dark hall    
    
Then I met a boy in Physical Education, P.E. who called me Gypsy, thanks to my skirts    
He introduced me to the rest of his friends and they eased life's hurts    
    
My school saved my life; they helped me so very much    
My school may be called Lincoln but it has a mothers loving touch    
    
And when I was homeless they helped me find a place to stay,    
They made sure I was safe and secure each and every day    
    
They helped me overcome my issues with math and taught me more    
About poetry and rather than any door I could have opened I opened Lincolns Door    
    
They taught me that I shouldn't be afraid to learn and no one would hurt me    
If I got things wrong, with praise and love I flourished and it is clear to see    
    
I will always be a part of Lincoln and Lincoln a part of me, for only the lucky go to Lincoln, the place only the few picks    
That with college coming up Lincoln the home of the Phoenix  
  
That High School will always have a part of my heart