please

save me

this is a cry for help

longing for attention

dont let me go

back

back to that place
the familiar darkness
that creeps around me

steals the air from my lungs
and the blood from my veins

i long for the end

or the before

when there was nothing
but me

or the end

where there is no more adjusting

i hate the process
breaking and healing

then breaking more

i worry that i wont heal
from this

anymore

i am in a room

trapped

for a brief moment
the door opens

for three days
i go outside,

into a high fenced yard
I think i am closer to freedom

i sleep outside
afraid that if i go in
i wont be able to go back out

that doesn't stop them

i am in a different room now
no windows
no beds

i just want to go home

If I hide they won’t find me


Please don’t let them find me

I think smooth
Soft
White

Porcelain stands up to much
But one little crack sends it to the garbage

Porcelain is strong
Disguised as weak

I’m so tired
I’ve pushed my body to its limits

To my limits

Who knows how far this body
Is willing to go

To survive

i went to the doctor today

i cried before i went in
not because of the doctor

but because of my father

he tells me i have to grow my hair out
i have to be a good little girl

i'm not his little girl
i was only pretending

i am me
genderqueer
short hair

i will not grow out my hair
for his ****** up ideals
of the perfect daughter

when i am not his daughter
at all

i am trying
to remember how to write

i can write this
can't I?

i want to write
but
i dont remember how

scream
loud,
be
heard,

its ok

music is important
to me

my father doesnt like music

I cant see why or how,
its a distraction
from the noise

the droning noise
that follows me
everywhere

even when i'm alone
when i'm at home
the droning
the noise

ringing
crashing
screaming
crying

the noise that is drowned out
by a simple melody

a simple hum when driving
whistling when walking
music when crying

music is important

its happening

my lungs are constricting

breathing is stuttering

hands are shaking

i thought i was better

its been so long

my head pounds

i just want to go home
to sleep
to be alone

i could fake sick

but i wont

i'm at school again
the skinniest girl here
calling herself fat

I'm at school again
earbuds
with no music

I'm at school again
i really
don't want to be here

i fear i'm drowning
i'm searching for the words to write
i need to express these feeling
in some way healthy
so i write
i write
i write
i write
i write stories that have no ending
and ****** poems
just to validate myself
i want to get rid of these feelings
so i write
i write
i write

relapsing is part of healing
just because you relapse
doesn't mean you lost all of your progress

why is it
so much harder
to write
in the dark?

i'm sitting in English class
looking at the others around me
there's two girls in this class
there's nineteen guys in my class
I look at their faces
but only when they are looking away
i cant be seen
observing
watching
it seems creepy
but the thing that's creepy
is that they all have sad eyes
there's no light behind them
what happened to that light
how can it be turned back on
with drugs and alcohol?
because that's what they do
how can they be helped
because they need help

sleep isn't something that's common anymore
always trying, but never succeeding
vile things haunt my peripheral
everything changes, but change is constant

my mind is poisoned
everybody is watching me

perfect is what i should be
lets take a nap together
eloquent is what your face is
always looking up
staying close,
even when i push you away

most of my stories
i have no name for
i cant really express
how a title can change the story

its like a person
with an assigned name
and you expect them
to live that name

for instance, Ashley
she is a fun loving blonde
or brunet, who loves to party
she dresses in ripped jeans and crop tops,
that may be a little too short

Or Jessica
who is the meanest ***** in the school
she wears ****-skirts
and sparkly tops,
that always accentuate her chest

the stereotypes that live in highschools
strangle everybody
who fits within them
even if they aren't them

Ashley just wants to be called Ash
and wear baggy T-shirts
and sweatpants

Jessica wants to be called Jess
and go by They/them pronouns

People should be able to fit on
where they want
not where they have to
to survive

he tries his hardest to be seen
he stands tall
he looks mean
but still there's this look in his eye
hes just trying
trying to survive
he is trying to live
he wants to succeed
in his dream

i've turned my guns to fists
but now what do i do with this
this war in my head
it despises me instead
i try my best to succeed
but i just want to concede
these monsters in my bones
have made themselves at home
and i find myself
f
  a
     l
       l
         i
           n
              g
down to greet them
knocking on their doors
tasked with doing their chores
to help them rip me apart
as they start toward my heart
and with everything i have
i will not let them take
me down with them to that place
where there is no me
and there is no you
just nothing at all