It's the girls who love the most who feel the least loved in this world

If I have to worry about if I'm replying to you too quickly and seeming over eager or something, the length of my texts being too long or the content of my texts being too weird, or the amount of texts I send you at once being too much because I'm scared I'll freak you out and annoy you by making you feel like I'm talking too much and won't shut up or I'm obsessed with you or something, then we are not really friends.

Alright, alright fine.

I guess maybe I over reacted a little bit

I mean, I suppose it's not as though we were dating, just flirting

Flirting is a very different thing. No commitment.

It's not like you broke any promises

I guess that if I had thought that I had a chance with someone I had convinced myself I loved for a long time, I would probably have done the same thing

I'm still ****** of course, don't get me wrong

I still want to hurt you

I still hate you with every ounce of my being

I still have reason to blame you

Don't get me wrong on that.

I still blame you, and have every right to

However,

I suppose

Maybe

I don't loathe you anymore

I guess I have re-examined and a lot of it was in my head

I made up a lot and mistook lots of what you said

I'm not saying I don't believe I had every right to react negatively

But I guess I'll admit, I overreacted.

Alright?

But you still hurt me.

Even if you didn't mean to.

And I have developed a bit of a plan.

Careful.

Women are angels
If someone breaks our wings
We will simply continue to fly...
on a broomstick.
We're flexible like that.

The boy next door
He moved here when we were both still little
Years and years ago
He used to come over
and play monopoly with me
And we'd argue about the rules
But he was one year older
And back then it didn't matter
But we slowly grew
like two flowers on a single stem
up and apart
I started to notice him for what he was
Green eyes and freckles
A smile like twilight's glow
Muscular and attractive
With his red baseball cap
And his music blasting
from his open garage door
And I like him
But he sees me as a little girl
I peek through the curtains
Every time I hear the echoing
of a basketball hitting the pavement
I watch him and catch his eyes every so often
An addictive terrified thrill courses through me everytime
Now he can drive
And I'm still so small to him
But time goes on
Now I'm a big girl
I'm not the little girl who plays with his little sisters anymore
I am just me
He came for dinner one night with his family
And I tried to sit next to him
But it didn't work out
But he is breathtaking
It's been years
When will I stop being a little girl to him?
When will he see me as the girl next door
Maybe never
But to me
He will always be incredible
He will always be
The boy next door

Repost if you have or had a "boy next door".

Hemophilia runs in the family
A bleeding disorder
I was fortunate
My sister got the gene, not me
She is a carrier
and has mild Hemophilia
If she had been born a boy, it would have been far more severe
But even with her mild disorder
She spontaneously begins bleeding
Without anything even happening to her
I spontaneously begin bleeding too
Even though nothing is happening to me
But you can't see that bleeding
It's internal
Not inside my body
But inside my soul.
Or something.
I'm not really sure where it hurts, all I know is that it hurt a lot
People say, just be happy!
Don't you want to be happy?
Can't you just ignore it?
NO.
That's like asking my sister
When she spontaneously gets ****** noses
Just stop bleeding!
Don't you want to stop bleeding?
Can't you just ignore the fact that blood is pouring out of you?
NO
just because the pain is not visible
DOESN'T MEAN IT ISN'T THERE.
IT IS NOT ESCAPABLE THE SAME WAY BLEEDING ISN'T
That is why I'm trying to find a distraction from the pain
Because when my sister gets a ****** nose, she just goes and distracts herself with a movie, so she doesn't pay attention to the bleeding
My point is, though
No.
I can't just "be happy"
I'm bleeding too
And it is spontaneous and inexplicable
YOU JUST CAN'T F*CKING SEE IT

Duct tape, bubble wrap and chocolate brownies don't fix everything
but they don't hurt, so my grocery list is gonna be weird for a little while.

Only 160 characters allowed.
It's a shame.
That limit restricts my emotions so much.
I can only type I miss you 20 times.
ImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouIm­issyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImi­ssyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyou
But even if I could write it an infinite number if times
It wouldn't be enough

Repost if you miss someone badly. Or if you just really like the repost button.
Please comment! I love to read any thoughts you have on my poetry or poetry itself as an art! :)

Valentines Day is still pretty far away
But I have made my plans already
I was thinking eating chocolate I bought myself all by myself
Watching a really ****** love movie depressing myself
Probably eating enough ice cream to fill a truck with
Straight out of the bucket
And I shouldn’t worry, I’m young
There’s still plenty of time to fall in love
But watching everyone around me who is in love
Makes me want to impale cupid with his own arrow
Because I always fall in love…alone
The word “unrequited” should be stabbed
The word is best friends with “lonely”
I don’t expect anyone to see past my imperfections
Long enough to give me a chance by February 14th
So I’m planning ahead of time
Making my grocery list: Sad Movie, Kleenex box, Chocolate, Ice cream, blanket, tea.
I’ve had my eye on you since the very first day I saw you
Any chance you want to ruin my Valentines day plans?

Repost if you expect to be alone... again on Valentines Day, even though it is far away.

If I can find a guy who will watch "When Harry Met Sally" with me, without complaint, and will be okay with me talking through the entire movie, at 1 AM on a weekday even though we both have to work in the morning with tea, chocolate, and a fuzzy blanket, while I wear ugly sweats and an oversized hoodie with no make up and messed up hair, and somehow, if he can still find me beautiful at that moment, I know I've found the one.

That girl has a beautiful soul
And if you are lucky enough to have her
You **** well better appreciate that about her
...she's my best friend.
Hurt her, and I impale you. :)

Repost if you are fiercely (and occasionally slightly terrifyingly) protective of your best friends
Please comment I love to read interpretations of my work!

There is a very large difference
Between critiquing something
And bullying someone
Critiquing helps a poet grow
KINDLY suggests new ideas
The poet could consider
But in reality
Someone's critiquing
Is not necessarily "the right way"
Because NO poet
Is superior
To others
So any critiquing
Is allowed to be accepted
Or ignored
That is up to the poet
Who is being critiqued
And they are perfectly within their right
To ignore the critiquing
Or to listen to it
And anyone
Is within their right
To RESPECTFULLY
Critique another's work
(Unless they specifically ask them not to of course, some just write for themselves and to express emotions, not to grow as a poet and that is perfectly okay.)
BULLYING
Is critiquing another
IN AN UNKIND FASHION
in a self-important, cruel, egotistical, pathetically self-righteous fashion
Critiquing
SHOULD NEVER
hurt another's feelings
Or harm their emotions
There is no such thing as "too sensitive"
You are not allowed to judge anyone else
For their level of sensitivity
That is not for you to analyze
And that just makes you
A horrible pathetic MEAN person
If you have hurt them
It is YOUR FAULT
even if you didn't mean to
and honestly, I have been at fault before for that too
but it is then YOUR RESPONSIBILITY
to fix it
to try to apologize
to explain what you meant in a kinder way
and recognize
your opinion
which you are entitled to
but your opinion
is not the only one
and it is not necessarily RIGHT.

The problem is
If I still starved and cut
People would care
Because I would be destroying my outer-self
They don't care that you are anorexic and depressed
As long as you don't bring physical harm to your body
The pain inside never matters because they can't see it
Well I hate my face
I hate everything about my body
My ugly arms and legs
Scarred, dry, cracked, ******
Ugly ugly ugly
Face too square
Unfeminine jawline
Eyebrows too thick
Nose too wide
Hair too bland
Eyes the color of dried blood
And ugly ugly brown
There is nothing I can do though that hurts me
When I try to fix it
The worst thing I could do
Would be to put on too much make up
They can't see how much I hate my f*cking ugly self
But I can't hurt myself
So it doesn't matter
Who cares
Ugly can't be diagnosed
So clearly I am not ill in the mind
I am just ugly
Only no one pays attention
To that
Because they can't see that pain
The way they could when I could count all my ribs
And I slashed my wrists
They can't see it
And I can't either
But I can FEEL IT
Even if it doesn't hurt on the outside
It hurts on the inside

I can stop myself from texting him
That's a start
But if I don't want to think about him
Well...
That's a whole lot harder
But I can't listen to love songs
Or sad love songs
Or sad songs
Or angry songs
Or Ed Sheeran because he loves his music
Or the song Riptide by Vance Joy because he loves that song too
This music reminds me too much of him
I can't use the word lovely
Because that was my favorite word he used to call me
And he knew it, so he used it all the time
I can't even wear dresses and skirts anymore because he always liked girls wearing dresses and skirts
I can't read John Green because he actually liked his writing style
And I can't read ANY quotes from Neil Gaiman because he loved his writing
He of course, had to be a writer and a poet so it's hard to read love poetry without his name creeping into mind
I hate how I can't even finish the novel I was writing because I included some events based off of some of my favorite moments between us
I can't look at pictures of England because he really wanted to live in England one day
I can't look his exgirlfriend who he still cares for who goes to my school in the eye because just like he always did I will always compare myself to her and I can never measure up to even close to what she is
I can't text the words "haha" because he used that instead of lol all the time
I can't even talk about him to someone without feeling pathetic
He just wrecked everything
He ruined my favorite outfits, music, music artists, writing, books, countries, and even my novels that I had ideas I was just so excited for.
I just can't get him out of my mind
And the truth is
I don't like him anymore
I really don't
but I do miss him
and I admit that
I don't want to
but honestly, I do
So it is just easier... to forget
Although with all the things that lead me back to him
It's proving not to be easier
and I kind of don't want to forget
because he was the closest I ever came
To really liking a guy
Who liked me back
and just like the tense he used when he said goodbye to me
I say liked
*not like.

Hello Poetry Support Group (collaboration between Ena Alysopriano and Ember Evanescent)


People of all ages sitting in a circle staring at the ground, ceiling, etc. a few twitching.


"Hi, I'm Fred."


"Hi Fred"


"I started this group because I found that I was on Hello Poetry 24/7. I got an account and I loved it. At first I was only on a little, posting one or two poems a day. But I loved it so much I began spending more time on it. It became a problem when I was fired for focusing on Hello Poetry instead of the heavy machinery I was operating. I was drinking so much coffee so I didn't have to sleep that I couldn't think straight. I began writing strange poems about adhesive sloths and grapes. My wife threatened to leave me if I didn't delete my account. I tried to stay off it but, it didn't work out. My wife took my kids and told me that I was too irresponsible. I responded with a limerick. She was very mad and left immediately after. I really want to stop being addicted to Hello Poetry and when I asked I got an overwhelming response from people who felt the same. If everyone could please introduce themselves in a clockwise direction."


"Hi… I'm… um… kittylover682"


"Hi kittylover682"


"So… I used to have a name, but now I can only remember my screen name. In fact, that is really the only part of my identity that remains. I miss obsessing over kitties and petting them, but now I just spend all my time on Hello Poetry. I used to have such a kitty-full life! I had so much potential! i made friends with every type of kitty, even new ones, i never discriminated. I met persian kitties, and alley kitties and tabby kitties and I went and pet them and showed them love… then i got kicked out of people's houses for sneaking in to pet their kitties… but my point is, kitties were my LIFE! And now, my life revolves around that little lightening bolt and i can only seem to speak in metaphors. That lightning bolt is the death of my heart, the thorn in my side, the electricity that warps my body and it just… it is a storm inside of my life. The agony when i see that my lightning bolt is not lit up with a notification… it is an undying fiery hell within my soul. I makes me want to… to… well, it makes me consider leaping off of cliffs or in front of trains… but the only thing that stops me is the hindering idea that I may have to get off of hello poetry for a few moments to go do that so I remain, under my bed on my computer, posting poetry, reading poetry, commenting, liking, reposting… its a VICIOUS CYCLE!!! WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?!!!!”


“Hi I’m DaPoet”


“Hi DaPoet”


“Like, kittylover682 I had a different name, but this is MUCH cooler. I don’t think I have a problem, because who says there is anything wrong with being a poet? Also I’m not a normal poet. All of my poems are also raps. I’m here because my mom thinks I have a problem. Apparently choosing poetry over sleep and school is not okay. I don’t understand her ‘logic’”


“Hi I’m DYING”


“Hi Dying”


“No, that’s not my name, who CARES what my name is?! I’m only still here and not on Hello Poetry right now because my sister has chained me to this chair and bolted it to the floor. She thinks I need help but I AM DYING! I need to get on it! I DON’T HAVE A PROBLEM! I’M FINE! I’M FINE! GIVE ME BACK MY LAPTOP!”


“Please calm down.”


“Shut up Fred!

There once was a man named Fred,

who got it into his stupid head,

that people needed to be cured,

of the obsession with the written word,

and as soon as I get unchained FRED IS GOING TO BE DEAD!”


“Okay… please stop creating violent limericks on the spot. We have all been there, there IS a way out.”


“I DON’T WANT A WAY OUT! I HATE TO SHOUT, BUT WITHOUT A DOUBT YOU ARE A BIG DUMB LOUT!”


“Okay, stop making really ****** rhymes please.”


“Well then… GIVE ME BACK MY LAPTOP!”


“Okay… let’s just move on. We’ll come back to you. Next person, please go on, I’ll duct tape his mouth shut. Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver, after all.”


“Hi I’m…Sally”


“Excuse me, could you put down your phone while you introduce yourself?”


“No… Oh my gosh, Poetry is Life started trending!”


“I’m sorry what?”


“My fourth latest poem started trending!”


“YAY!” everyone claps and congratulates Sally


“No. No more Hello Poetry. We are supposed to stop obsessing over poetry and be cured from this addiction.”


“I don’t want to be cured.”


“I love Hello Poetry”


“Why don’t we change this to a spoken word club!”


“Yes!”


“Hi I’m DaPoet and I declare this a new spoken word club!”


“YAY!”


“No no no! I created this to-” Sally clubs Fred in the head with her phone and he drops dead


“YAY! FRED IS DEAD!”


“He was hit in the head”


“And we are now free”


“To write continuous poetry!”


“And become more obsessed instead!”


The end.



REPOST IF YOU REALLY NEED TO ATTEND THIS SUPPORT GROUP TOO LIKE US
PLEASE COMMENT! WE LOVE TO READ ANY THOUGHTS YOU HAVE!

Tortured
Loathed
Hurt

Oh, but no, no. Of course I'm fine.
After all, in this society, it is not okay to be not okay.

I can sneak around a house without making a sound
I could be a burglar (except I have no desire to ***** up other peoples lives and be a thief violating their homes and stealing their stuff but aside from that...)

I can bluff really well in board games and cards

I can smoothly slip things into my pocket without anyone noticing

I can hold grudges. forever
literally.

Somewhere between
fury


and


hurting

I honestly am not suicidal anymore.
And that's good.
It's nice to be able to say that again.
I'd like to feel like I'm living more often, but I don't want to **** myself anymore, at least.
I honestly am not suffering from an eating disorder or any kind of weight paranoia.
This is also good.
It is really nice to be able to feel less worthless in that sense.
These are good things.
I'm getting better.
Let's focus on the positive, Ember.
This year WILL NOT JUST BE AN EXTENSION OF LAST YEAR.
You don't want to live like that anymore.
The silence is over.
Build something better for yourself.
It's time to find your own escape.
And it's time to focus on something better.
Maybe this sinking feeling of depression isn't entirely escapable, but count the struggles you've overcome.
I don't cut anymore, I don't starve anymore, and I don't make drafts for suicide notes anymore.
These are good things.
I still feel hollow, but I'm alive.
I'm going to start FEELING alive.
This is my goal.
It will be okay.
I need to start believing that.
because it is true.
I just don't know it yet.

I was lying in bed last night staring up

at the stars speckling the celestial indigo heavens

like glittery sprinkles across a birthday cake

and I thought to myself:

Where the hell is the ceiling?

Leaving class during an internal lockdown

Shooting elastic bands at the target we mounted on the wall

Shooting elastic bands at our teacher's hat

Hiding from our teacher with the hat

Naming the robot we programed in class: Clive

Bananagrams

Ditching gym class

Talking/lying our way out of trouble a lot lol

Making elaborate plans to do very odd things (and playing pink panther
music as well as mission impossible music when we did it)


Putting mistletoe everywhere in the school at Christmas

Texting quotes of the night

Writing fictional stories and sending them over text to each other in
parts at 2AM

Writing poetry

Learning the Greek Alphabet so we could play Greek Hangman

Creating numerous extremely complicated codes where punctuation,
capitalization, "accidental" smudges near words and how you
pronounce certain words is significant.

Always buying the same drink at Starbucks

Eating a ridiculous amount of free samples at the Fro Yo place

Skipping down the hall happily in our gothic spiked clothing. Just to
confuse people. Watching the looks we got.

Writing limericks in math class

Playing Go Fish with our bus passes and when the teacher came over all he said was: Oh! Who's winning?

Playing full tackle basketball...when we were supposed to be playing badminton

Filling a friend's locker with stuffed animals while they were away and texting them to warn them we put a lion and bear in their locker

Inside jokes: Whiteout, Whip-cream, We-are-the-crazy-people, ****, that's a fiiiine shoulder! Pass the coke!

Playing Quarto during Science class

Playing boggle during religion




I miss that grade. I wish things could go back to the way they were, but they really can't ever. I miss being so young and innocen- hahahahaha okay, not innocent but young and crazy. I miss when there were not scars on my arms and my soul.

I make a point of wearing silver instead of gold when I can
Because gold is first place
Everyone wants to be golden
So many poets agree sunset and dawn
Are the most beautiful times of day
Both of which are golden
But I disagree
Nighttime has its own peculiar but enchanting charm
With its crowning jewel, the silver moon.
To me, it is agony like no other that surpasses not placing at all
To be placed second
To have come so close
Yet fall just one place short
And watch as the Golden one
Outshines you, the Silver.
As a tribute to the unspoken grievers
The Silvers with their quiet beauty like the darkness
Just before dawn, yet unloved for they fell short
I wear silver.
For the Silver Seconds.

Please repost if you are a Silver too
Comment please! I love to read interpretations of my work.

I want to carry it with you.
I don't need to know your burden
Because it probably won't really help
And you probably don't want to tell me anyway
I get that
I've been there
I am there
I know people who have been there
I know people who are there
If you don't have one, you probably will one day.
Most of us do.
Because we live in an ugly society
But a beautiful world
If you want someone to know
If you want ME to know
That you are carrying a heavy burden
You don't need to tell me
You can if you want
I will listen
I will help you bear it
But if you just want someone to know you are carrying a burden
And nothing beyond that
Comment a heart <3
Just leave a heart like this: <3
If you want to share your burden
Message me, or comment telling me your burden
Just know, it doesn't make you weak to share your burden
It makes you strong
Regardless what you do, comment with a heart if you carry a burden
And I will know, even if no one else on the entire earth does
That you carry a burden
I will know that you are strong
And I will genuinely take some time at night
To ponder you, as a soul
And your strength
And try to find a way
Inside myself
To put myself in a mental state where I help you to carry your burden
Emotionally
No matter how many miles apart we are
I will be with you in spirit
To help you carry your burden
And I wish all of you love and strength
You are soldiers
You are all strong
<3

Love Ember

Icicles break my heart because they                                                      are like frozen teardrops that got
so absolutely freezing cold
They froze as sharp blades of ice
Until they eventually fall
And shatter

Please repost if your teardrops are frozen
Comment I love to read people's interpretations of my work!

I will never wake up looking like the girls do in the movies
I won’t always end up doing the right thing
I can’t promise I will never be angry with you
I can’t promise I will never do things that make you angry with me
I can’t even promise I’ll be sorry for them every time
But I can promise that even if you aren’t sorry
I’ll find a way to forgive you somehow even if it takes years
In our time together
I will have good days
And bad days
Busy days
And sweatpants days
But if you will be there for me
Through the rain
And the storms
And the mist
From sunset through ‘till dawn
I will be there through it all for you too
I can’t promise smiles the whole way
But I will promise you one thing for certain
If you will promise me the same
I promise you eternity

I bet she's tall and pretty
I bet she doesn't even need makeup to be stunning
I bet she stays up late with you and sends you late night texts
I bet you two get drunk and high together
I bet she has no qualms about sending you **** pictures of herself
I bet she is in the "popular" crowd
I bet she doesn't complicate everything
I bet she has never cut herself or tried to **** herself or starved herself
and I have done all three
I bet she is everything you ever wanted
I bet she is someone you would miss like crazy if she left you
I bet you barely remember my name
I am the one who sits at home and reads with a cup of tea and a hoodie on
She is the one who goes out and parties, gets drunk and high and strips
I wish you would miss me
Just a little bit

Okay, you two. I want you to say sorry.
Now that she has said sorry, you have to say: That's okay.
There. Now it's all better.

**here is the problem with that, from a very young age, children are taught to simply SAY sorry, and not actually find remorse in themselves, they just say it whether they mean it or not, and they think there is no difference. The other problem: Even if you ARE sorry, not all things you do can be undone. Not everything IS "okay" now that you are sorry. Some things are unforgivable. It can't always be "all better".

Dear Pamela Rae

You are such a kind and magnificent soul.

You poetry is deeply moving.

You are a deeply moving person and poet.

You words make my day all the time and you are truly inspiring.

I have selected some of my favorite lines from your poetry and
responded to them.

Take my smile,
dear Universe
so that I might know pain
-Pamela Rae

What an extraordinary thought! Beautifully written and insightful.

I have a room
where I keep
so many memories
-Pamela Rae

It is a powerful feeling to imagine the waves of recollections washing over you as you step into a room that hold memories. Unique idea and gives physicality to otherwise intangible echoes of the past.

My heart stopped.
I thought I had
lost you.
-Pamela Rae

The dread and terror that vibrate within this phrase is so impactful you can just imagine the feeling of your pounding heart suddenly coming to a halt. To be unable to function due to shock so exquisitely contrasts numbness and anguish.

All she needs
Is to escape into life.
-Pamela Rae

Magnificent concept. To find refuge in living. Your mind works in a wonderful way.

Without Questions
there would be
no answers.
-Pamela Rae

True and lovely. Wise words. Simple and brilliant.

You keep telling me
About the mistakes I've made,
The things I've done
As if speaking of them
Will change what took place
Nothing can change
The past, nothing can erase
The hurt, the pain, the sadness—
-Pamela Rae

Such aching heartbreak grips these poetic words in such a real way. Emotions made out of syllables. I can feel the agony crawling across my skin like early winter frost on a window pane. Enchanting yet haunting.

Stop being so scared, my friend--
it's going to be okay.
-Pamela Rae

Words of encouragement are such a rare find in poetry. You come across as such a supportive person for this and I genuinely believe you are.

Dear Pamela Rae,
Your comments on my poetry and your messages always make me smile.
You have a way with words that is unlike anyone else’s.
You don’t bend them to your will the way a puppet master manipulates strings, you softly mold them like clay, gently and kindly the way your soul works in this world: Gently and Kindly.
I see so much beauty in your work and in you.
I see such unprecedented elegance and I want you to know, you are Starlight.
I can’t think of a metaphor to do your brilliance justice, but Starlight is as close as I can get.
You shine through darkness, your kind words pierce particularly my own dark days and provide delicate brightness to trace the path to smiling again.
You seem like a strong and phenomenal, inspiring person and poet.
I want to thank you for your kindness.
If you were a tiny crystal in a beach of powdery white sand, you would be precious enough to be worth searching through every grain of it to find you.
Rare and priceless.
In my eyes, you are Crystal Starlight. :)
<3
Thank you for being amazing you.

It has made a difference in my life.

Love Ember

It would be funny if there was a guy who yelled Ow! and felt like he'd been slapped every time someone broke a law, no matter how minor.

I text hi
You text hey
Instantly I wish I’d said that instead because Hi makes me sound clingy
I count the minutes between our texts
You ask how I am
I say I’m good who are you
You say not bad :)
I say that’s good :)
And we are back to square one.
Conversations of k lol cool and ya
The kind I hate
Then we play questions
And you ask me questions that are so deep, it surprises me
I’m intrigued
You’re different
I tell you the truth
About so many things I’m used to lying about
I am getting so close to telling you
My secrets
My unpretty ones
The ones I’ve been keeping
I said you know all that you need to about me
But I lied
I’m sorry
But you lied too
You text me you’ll be there when I return
Waiting for me
You might have said the sweetest things anybody has ever said to me
But you change your mind too easily
I travelled so far and thought of you
Every day I was away
I bought you something special
But you never got it
Because when I got back
You were there
But not really
You were distant
And you said remember how I liked you?
I notice you put it in past tense
Okay
That’s fine
It doesn’t consume me
At least I didn’t let myself get attached
Because usually when I lose someone
The pain never fades
At least you didn’t give me time
To fall in love with you and your lovely words
Lovely
Lovely
Lovely
You ruined the word for me
I wish I didn’t have to keep that special gift I had for you
But I can’t bring myself to get rid of it
And I used it a couple times myself so it didn’t go to waste
But now it haunts me too much to touch
So it sits on a shelf
And isn’t broken
But it’s just a little sad
Kind of like me
And what is behind the words
The words I gave you
Thank God I never told you my secrets
You couldn’t have handled them
And then that would mean I trusted you
With it all
And I really couldn’t handle losing someone
Who I trust
Because it’s worse than losing someone who I love
But still thank God I didn’t fall in love with you
I’m hiding something behind the words still though
It isn’t that bad
you didn't break me or anything
but still
I’m just a little sad.

Repost if you know the feeling

I want to write my emotions down in this poem,
But if I put my emotions into words
The screen would burst into flames
And I would burst into tears

I'm just so broken right now, and I just want to be happy. Why can't I just be happy

I’d like to write a love poem.
For tea has ceased to give me joy.
And in the past, one of the only things that has,
Has been feelings for a boy.
I know that sounds pathetic,
Like Disney commercials have seized my mind,
But sometimes focussing on something lovely as opposed to my own self-loathing,
Is the only relief I can find.
I’d like to write a love poem
And yet I know I cannot.
For the boy who sees me as nothing but a game,
Is the only one my heart has got.
I’d like to write a love poem
For someone other than him
Whose head is filled with textured thoughts,
And heart is filled with kindness, to the rim
I’d like to write a love poem
Telling of how I adore
His endless eyes, his glistening soul
But his rough edges even more.
I’d like to write a love poem,
But the more I think it through
I realize that I’ll never have anyone
To address my love poem to

If "disposable" is one of the words that come to mind when you think of me, even if it's intermingled with "beautiful" and "lovely"
I don't need you in my life

I was helping my little sister with a fiction story she has to write for her school
She was creating a character
I told her to create some personality traits, some tendencies that define her character, some unique habits so that the character is sharp in the readers mind, like a real person, nothing vague. She then had me read what she had written.
Brace yourselves, her level of sanity is a little concerning...

Here it is:

**she can not talk because her mother died and now she is too angry at fish to talk

she is missing one hand because she had to do cooking at home to help out but she accidentally cut off her hand  

she does not have any hair because she has cancer  

she has a obsession with clowns and dressed up as a clown every year for Halloween

she is deathly afraid of daisies

she wants to be the prime minister when she grows up , even though she lives in the U.S  

her backup plan is to become a clown

she loves buying turtles as pets

she already owns 14 turtles and they are all either named Abrocombie or Fitch  

She despises the names Abrocombie and Fitch but she loves all her turtles especially Fitch who she nicknamed Bob  

she owns a leather jacket that she wears every day except for on the days she buys turtles on...
so she never wears her leather jacket

it doesn't matter it's fine he is worth nothing to me I can let him go I wish I had just shut up no I don't miss him God I miss him no I miss the idea of him he was nothing special I am never going to learn why am I so overdramatic and pathetic I get stupid after midnight I hate life no I don't I just hate myself yeah that's fair enough I don't know what's wrong with me why did I text him during one of my broken moments there is something wrong with me I hate everything but mostly myself and him but I don't hate him no I really DO hate him I loathe him why did I waste my time I am a pathetic loser why I am I doing this to myself I can't escape my own head I hate everything why do I keep saying that I am getting sick of hating everything why does he have to exist I should ****** him with a chainsaw oh yes I would enjoy that oh wait that's illegal okay why am I spending so much time on it I should really be doing work right now I am really stupid okay I have accomplished nothing today I am just an option for him I am just another pathetic little ego boost I hope he dies alone I hope he is okay he is not okay I am not okay I am not okay I am not okay omfg what if wrong with me why do I have to be this dumb he is damaged from the divorce of his parents so he is being a ******* and acting out, maybe that's it maybe he will change NO. don't think like that he will not change ever don't expect him to why do you like him anyway I don't like him I don't like him well I kind of do I don't know what I'm thinking I can't breathe he would never give me a second look and I don't want him to except I want him to so I can break him but he won't I am worthless.

Pfft I don't need a f!cking man to make me feel loved and happy

Why else would we have chocolate?

I mean really

Chocolate doesn't mind if I am a *****

If I *** really badly

If I eat it (guys would never let you do that! And I bet they wouldn't
taste as good ...okay that's creepy. let's not think about that.)

If I wear what I call my: comfy-lazy-day-clothes and the rest of
humanity calls: hella-ugly-as-****-clothes

If I don't' wear makeup

If I bag on myself

If I sing. For 9 hours... straight...

If I ugly cry

If I literally act SO unbelievably insane it is actually scary and not pleasant or normal or safe and probably merits a psychological analysis

If I am too busy to hang out with it

Chocolate has never told me it loves someone else

Chocolate doesn't mind at all if I **** so badly at most sports that
dolphins are better throwers than me... and runners...

Chocolate doesn't ever care if I read so much that I forget to like, eat or
sleep or breathe or brush my hair or get dressed or get out of bed or put on pants or do anything else.

Chocolate can deal with my insane mood swings

Chocolate doesn't hit on other girls

Chocolate doesn't care that I'm not ready to like, you know "get serious" with it (that would actually be really disturbing let's not think about that either)

Chocolate accepts me for who I am and never judges me
(Although that is mainly because it is edible and inanimate...)

Chocolate respects my boundaries

I love chocolate

See? I don't need a man to be happy.

Who am I kidding I'm lonely as hell. :(
Why am I so pathetically dependant on love?
AUGH. I guess I'll just go and eat some chocolate.

The problem is I do like him.
I certainly hate him
But I also like him.
I like the way he capitalizes the beginnings of his sentences over text,  I like the cute little crinkles that appear in his forehead when he smiles
The coy way he responds to flirtation with something like "Oh really now?"
I like how he calls things "sweet", the way he says "aww" I even f!cking like his annoying as hell overuse of the phrase "haha" when he texts which ****** me off,
I like how he is the only teenaged boy I know who says something is "quite" fun and how he uses the word "lovely" to describe things because no one uses that word anymore and more people should.
I like how he has an immense love for Spiderman,
How he has all these aspirations of travelling all over in the future
I like how he wants to live in England one day, I like that he is into cooking and drinks coffee and hot chocolate and how his favorite book is "Looking for Alaska" and how he's read everyone of John Green's books and how he wants to be a writer one day.
I just remember the dumbest little things that I still like about him
For instance how he likes Neil Gaiman and loud screamy music even though I hate that stuff, how he is the only one in his fractured family who doesn't speak French but his older sister and mother do. He has a dog named Charlie and when he was a kid he always spelled "subtle" wrong. I just don't know *** is wrong with me I should have known better. I should hate him for half this stuff and all the rest of the reasons I have to loathe him but it's hard to forget those little details about him. I just hate feeling like a broken lock. A lock of dark secrets and completely irrepairable. Though it's not the fact that Im irrepairable that bothers me as much as feeling so... replaceable. Idk. Maybe I need to go out with someone to get him out of my head.

Grandpa brought me a dolly
With golden curls on her head
Dolly’s eyes so blue
Her cheeks a rosy red
I left her on my shelf
But when I woke up at 1
She stood near my toy shelf
Near a plastic gun
Then I closed my eyes again
But I woke up at 2
And she was halfway to by bed
So I ignored her not knowing what else to do
Then she was at my dollhouse
When I woke up at 3
Her eyes were dark and demonic
Staring right at me
I swear I saw her blink
When I woke up at 4
And saw my dolly standing
Beside my closet door
When I woke up at five
She was at the foot of my bed
But I didn’t get to sleep again
Because I was dead.

Happy Halloween!!
Please repost if you love Halloween!
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry! Especially long ones! Or if you have a creepy doll, or Halloween or ghost story! :)

You guys are smiling and making jokes
You tell me I should really be working
I tell you I'm too tired to work right now
I'm not tired
Well, I am, but that's not why I'm not working
I just can't breathe
I know I'm not alone, but I feel completely alone and I don't know Why I'm feeling so hollow
Make it stop. Please.
You don't notice though.
Maybe it's better that you don't.
I'll keep listening to sad music and wonder why I'm feeling so empty when nothing is even wrong
And you keep not knowing how horrible I feel
Because you have problems a lot worse than mine, for sure
I don't want to tell you, because you don't deserve to have to listen to my sadness on top of your own
And I feel selfish if I tell you
I just don't know who to talk to
And even though I'm surrounded by people
I. Feel. So. Lonely. I. Feel. Like. I. Have. Died.

I might have gotten myself into another attraction that could never work, but at least I think I'm really done with you. Maybe circumstances and time have twisted chance out of my hands, but at least my hands don't reach for the empty air where you were anymore when I'm trapped in my own darkness. Even though my luck is crumpled this time, as it always is, at least I don't feel my lungs crumpling and collapsing into themselves the way I used to, every time I heard your name. At least.

Today I'm going to stop
This ridiculous destructive thing
I've been doing it to myself
For five. miserable. years.
I talk so much about
How I hate to be controlled
but this is controlling me
I'm wasting my life
and this is my fresh start
I don't want to paint over
the same old canvas
I've already painted black
I've gone down this road before
and I could have been a killer
I don't want to be her anymore
The girl no one could help
and just watched her waste away before them
I'm no longer going to count the numbers
and measure and weigh
and cry and hate
I'M DONE
it can't control me anymore
she told me she was worried about me
now I know it's too far
what do I care anyway about all this?
It won't be very easy
but I'm not going to do this to myself anymore
I'm taking this canvas and BURNING IT
I'm starting fresh
I'm done with this
I'm finished
I need to be strong enough
for her
I won't become a statistic
under the earth in a wooden box
with only a block of cement
to prove I ever existed
because pretty doesn't have a size
and for her
I'm going to stop
Five years
is long enough

To my best friends

a vow of loyalty

I swear to you, if a punchbuggy drives by, you will not be able to move your arm for a week.

I swear to you, I will help you finish anything you start. Especially your fries.

I swear I will impale any guy who cheats on you.

I swear any guy who breaks your heart will wonder how his limbs came to be unattached from his body over night.

I swear any ***** that gives you trouble will wonder where her eyebrows and ears when, in the morning when she wakes up.

I swear I will protect you from everything and anything I can.

I swear I will care more about your problems than you do.

I swear I will not only be more concerned about your love life than you are, but make your happiness love-wise my own personal mission in life above any of my needs.

I swear I will let you outrun me if there is a bear chasing us. Mainly because I **** at running, but also so that you can get away. No, it is mostly because I am bad at running.

I think I'd like to have a British accent that sometimes randomly morphs into a Russian one.

I have a million things to say to you
about how you made me feel
how worthless you made me feel
how broken you made me feel
and I could write you a list
I could mail it to you
I could write you a song
I could sing it to you
I could scream it at you
I could cry to you all the things you did to me
tell you how much I loathe you
I could tell you how you WRECKED me
how you RUINED things in my life
how you destroyed those that I care about and love
I could etch it into your skin
leave it in a note on your doorstep
burn it into the wood of your backyard fence
...but I won't.
You really don't even deserve to know what you did to me anymore
So goodbye now.
Even though you're not even worth a goodbye to me anymore.

Repost if someone has stopped even being worth a goodbye to you at this point because of how deeply they wounded you.
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art!

How to deal with an addiction to hellopoetry:

Step one: Admit you have a problem

Step two: Start by limiting your time on it

Step three: Join a support group and share your feelings

Step four: Have the people in the support group talk to you about quitting hellopoetry.

Step 5: Slaughter everyone within a 10 mile radius with a chainsaw and go back on hellopoetry

Step 6: When the police knock on your door offer to help them sign up for hellopoetry.

Step 7: Creepily pet your chainsaw like a cat.

Step 8: Never mind, I'm too busy on hello poetry

Is any other girl out there sick of society's definition of beauty when it comes to our ***?

Step 1: Take a breather. Don't start going insane and terrorizing the city with chainsaws. That is in a later step. Go have a cup of tea. Calm. If you're cold go get a blanket. Think warm thoughts. Imagine you are on fire. Okay, actually never mind, don't do that.

Step 2: Go back to your computer and hold down the off button until it completely shuts off.

Step 3: Scream obscenities at your laptop, kick it and drop it off the roof.

Step 4: Wonder why it isn't turning on.

Step 5: Call your second cousin twice removed's best friend's dogsitter's guitar teacher's Polish-speaking doctor who lives in Germany. Ask him for help. Apologize for thinking she was a man and explain the ****** hair in the pictures and her extremely deep voice were misleading. Say hello a couple times into the receiver before accepting she has hung up on you.

Step 6: Send your second cousin twice removed's best friend's dogsitter's guitar teacher's Polish-speaking doctor who lives in Germany a basket of muffins with a heartfelt apology note written in Korean, to prove you are multi-cultural.

Step 7: Hug your computer and stroke it creepily whispering: Awwww who’s a good laptop?

Step 8: Dump a bucket of water on your computer when it STILL doesn’t turn on. That’ll teach it.

Step 9: Cry about your hair not being shiny enough. Get distracted by a butterfly. Wonder why there is a butterfly in the middle of the arctic. Wonder why you are in the arctic and how you got there.

Step 10: Feed your stupid meany-pants laptop to a polar bear.

Step 11: RUN in terror from the hungry polar bear with indigestion that you have just *******.

Step 12: Get your chainsaw and go terrorize the nearest village.

Step 13: Send that village a basket of muffins and a heart-felt apology note written in gibberish so they are impressed by the fact that you are fluent in Gibberish.

(OPTIONAL STEP 14: Send that polar bear a basket of muffins. Just to be nice.)