when i have abandoned school, i will dye my hair a wild color
and pluck daisies from the ground to wear in my hair.
i will wear whatever makes me happy,
and cry over the sight of a puppy on a bad day.
i will feel a warm breeze on my cheeks,
and leave work at around six o´ clock
to make a short trek to my home, where i would be greeted
with lo-fi music and the smell of dinner cooking filling the apartment.
i will have plants all around my room, because i thought they were beautiful,
and stay up late watching the stars with my roommate,
and eating junk food that does not even taste very good and hurts my stomach,
but it was all we could afford because college has put us so far in debt.
but we will be happy anyway.

you can feel the burn on your hands from your coffee in the morning
and wear things your parents would never let you wear
or impulsively stop by a pet store and buy a new companion
and stay up until early in the morning and sleep until the afternoon
or even turn your living room into a fort and dance in the rain

but for now, i am confined to a small box of standards
and told what to say and what to do, even if i am uncomfortable.
pick up a mess i did not make, be kind to people i do not like,
pay attention to a lesson, even if i am exhausted.
for now, i must keep my weeps silent,
and my opinions more quiet than silence can hold.

but perhaps it could be useful
to start wearing daisies in my hair now
so people will not be shocked
when my cheeks are lifted high with a smile

if i had three wishes
one of them
would be to take back
every single touch from you
that has laced my skin.
another one
would be to take back
every single word
that you whispered in my ear.
the final one
would be to forget
that i ever knew you,
and forget what you did to me.
but maybe i dont wish that
because, yes,
you ruined me,
but because of it
i wont let anyone else
do the same

my hand roars
with searing pain.
"i dont know how
this happened,"
i explain. but in truth,
my art teacher
left a box of sharp objects
on her desk
and my little hands
just wanted to grab one
just wanted to try

its too loud
too loud too loud too loud
the room is filled with sound
and focusing on that
just makes the thoughts of you
become more vibrant.
why don't we laugh like that anymore?
why don't we sit and talk like that anymore?
why don't we share memories anymore?
where are you? its too loud.

needles piercing skin
producing a thick black ink
etching a symbol on a cold veiny wrist
rounded corners and sharp edges
producing a word i could never feel;
´hope.´