hush, child;
don't listen to what the others say,
because the truth of the matter is,
no one hates you more than you do.

when you grow up,
you will, inevitably, hate yourself;
hate your body,
your physical image,
your own personality.

but i'm here to tell you,
here to tell you that it'll be okay,
you'll be okay,
because in reality,
nobody loves you more than i do.

you don't need a boy to comfort you,
because i will be there,
by your side,
always;

when times are dark,
and all hope seems to be lost,
think of me,
and even if i am not alive to comfort you,
my spirit will always be there for you,

because *i love you.

shortly, this book will be slammed shut;
and i simply cannot wait
for this dreadful tale
to be brought to an end.

hopefully,
somewhere in this vast library of life,
a new book will open!
and i will soon see the light;

because Christmas time has come and gone
and so have my old tears,
but now it's finally time to say goodbye,
and hello to the new year.

"why do you write poems?
maybe you feel an emotional connection with it,
or maybe,
you don't care at all.

maybe you don't feel anything while writing;
maybe you feel confused, irritated;

maybe all you want to do is destroy someone's life and laugh in the face of danger,
maybe you just want to jump out the window,
and **** yourself.

however,
your choices right now
will impact your future
maybe you won't even have a future,

so take care of yourself.

because no matter what happens,
you'll be alright
and you'll get through it,
i promise."

but...
promises are made to be broken.

theres that one place we all know,
where when we step inside,
all our memories flood back to us,
whether we like it or not.

as the slow, soft music hits me,
and the ambience and candles light up the atmosphere,
i feel a strange sort of déjà vu
not knowing if i've been here before or not.

the sound of couples dining all around me,
kind of makes me sad.
as i have this feeling that i've had my chance before,
but its slipped away.

im writing this on the spot,
as i know this feeling won't last,
because when i walk away from this place,
that feeling of déjà vu will have past.

drink your entire life away,
the bottle full of things you dare not say;

as my mind falls into a bottomless pit of black,
i know that i will never get myself back.

gone is the way i smile,
to come is the way i'll pile,

all my deepest regrets onto you,
as my heart sinks into the deep ocean blue.

a haiku consists of 3 lines,
each consisting of 5 words,
7 words,
5 words;
but how could i possibly express my feelings in a mere 17 words?

deeper than the ocean,
soar higher than cardinals,
burn hotter than hell;

oops.
i just did it.

friends go out,
i stay in,
hear them shout,
hear me win,
here they come,
there i go,
lost in the dark place
i call home.

i may not have perfect skin,
a perfect face,
a perfect body,
or a perfect personality,

but these flaws are what make me who i am,
and if you can't accept them,
if you keep trying to change me,

do you actually love me?

lost. in. oblivion.

my mind shall not wander,
as it is lost in oblivion,

my heart shall not break,
as it is lost in oblivion,

i am determined not to be a lost girl,
lost in oblivion;

although,
admittedly,
i am already,
lost;
in;
oblivion.

the darkness consumes my soul,
drowning in my own tears,
as i think,
why me?

although
i brought this upon myself,
tripping over my toes for the wrong person,
beating myself up for him,
when in fact,
i should not have been;
i was simply,
lost. in. oblivion.

you never loved me,
and you never will,
your negligence has caused me to be
lost. in. oblivion.

i shall never find my way out
of this darkness you call oblivion,
i put myself here,
and i will  stay here,
until the end of my days.

unless
my days have already ended,
lost. in. oblivion.

why is it so hard for me to figure out my feelings?
what is so difficult about:
who you love;
and who you don't?

what is love?
the concept of love confuses me,
throwing me into oblivion,
preventing me from ever finding out what exactly,

love is.

love is hope;
love is pain;
but is it?

i will never know what love is,
because im too late;
too far down the rabbit hole,
drowned in my tears,

guilt weighing me down,
gravity bringing me down,
my lies killing me slowly,
my heart burning me slowly.

people may scoff at your interests,
tell you it's a stupid,
waste of time.

you're not popular;
the popular kids play those games
those games you're not interested in.

but it doesn't matter
your interest makes you happy

it saved your life,
when you felt like falling into the pit of depression,
it was there,
almost lovingly.

they made their comeback,
and now it's time
for you to make yours.

and if you fall,
it'll always be there to save you,
like it always had.

because nothing is more important,
than your happiness.