don't cry
daddy loves you
daddy loves you so much
he can't keep his hands off you.

Don't tell anyone
they wouldn't believe you anyhow
just know daddy loves you
daddy loves you

all she wanted
was for him to hold her close
and demand to know what's wrong
so she could cry in his arms,
but when he finally did
she froze
and could not speak a word
except
I'm
*sorry

I hung plum curtains in a circle
To hide from the world.
Sometimes I hear passerbys
Tapping on the glass
Wondering if there’s anybody in there;
A cockroach trapped in a glass jar.
I pretend there’s not.
I sit perfectly still in the middle
And let them tap away,
Knowing that I’ll never tempt to
Peak behind the curtains,
Afraid that what’s tapping
Isn’t human at all,
But my paranoia
With malicious intent.

you see I get you
two times a week
if it's convenient
for you
but there are times
when it's not tuesday or friday
that I need somebody at my side
but that'll never be
for like always
you don't care for me
like I care
for you

Bogged down
by envy
of girls
***** dancing
with drink in hand
those kids
who go to parties
so much confidence
and careless zest
dancing the night away
even the most unexpected people
get a kiss
get to experience a form of togetherness
reminiscent of a cliche teenage movie
and no matter how much
I'd like to go
to see what it's like
show a different side of myself
I know deep down
I don't belong there.

the ailment is strong,
we must **** the disease
at it's origin.

but wait,
I'm the origin.

This is not a poem.
This is something I must say.
When struggling with anger,
When in a war with one's self,
fighting an endless, raging ocean of emotions,
one must find peace within.
I can go through the day and not be bothered,
I can gain the upper hand in any argument,
I am peaceful, happy, and healthy.
There are reasons for this,
reasons which are often mistaken
and I must beg you not to mistake them.
Just because I meditate,
does not mean I am a buddhist,
or am in a cult.
Because I eat much fruit
and smoothies
does not mean I'm an "L.A. snob"
Because my body is in shape and in tune with itself from Yoga,
again, does not have any connection to a religion
and does not make me an "L.A. snob"
Tai Chi,
Yoga,
Juicing,
Pilates,
Meditation,
Active in politics,
ecologically aware,
philosophical readings,
does not bind me to any one thing in particular.
You judge,
you sneer,
you make your silly little assumptions
and snort when I suggest you try it.
Caring about the world around me,
Knowing my body,
how to stay healthy and how to use it,
Understanding our impact on this Earth,
is not a crime.
Adults,
you laugh in my face and tell me I am silly,
that I am ignorant and easily manipulated
simply because I am opinionated when it comes to those who run our country.

I have become a better person and the world refuses to accept it
due to how I got here.
Meditation was my first step, and I implore you to do the same.
Not for religion, rebellion, attention, or because someone said so,
do it for yourself.
Meditation is clearing your mind, teaching yourself to be patient,
and focus. When having a bad day and someone bumps into you,
you can just as easily get angry and irritated,
or you could brush it off.
You see, meditation is a way to clear your mind.
I'm not saying it's the only way, or that it's the best,
but it's a way that helped me.
I'm not converting you,
I'm not pestering you,
I'm asking you,
because when I see that you're unhappy,
the kind of irritable, unhappy, aching person I used to be,
I want to see you be your best,
I mean no harm,
I simply want you to be happy.

This is not a poem.
This is a thing I must say.
To the adult upstairs who screams at me for being a religious, selfish, ignorant, horrible person,
simply because I found something that helps me, be a better me.
To the sneering strangers who think me odd for dressing in dark colors and conservatively, because the reason couldn't possibly be that I like the color, or that I prefer conservative clothes,
no, it's because I'm a satanic devil worshiper, and a *****.
To the snickering teenagers who run off to drink, smoke, and fill a void because they do not understand that.... that what?
I see these teenagers come to school with tears in their eyes and bruises on their heart,
I see them flinch in an instant from being vulnerable to vicious and vindictive, brushing it off and laughing at something that is not socially acceptable.

Do not do things for others.
Do them for yourself.
I cuss,
I have fun,
I act crazy,
but also poised,
knowledgable,
looked down upon as a degenerate,
but I simply don't care,
because I'm healthy, strong, opinionated,
driven, confident, understanding,
tactile,  and most importantly.
I'm happy.




Also Dapper,
Very dapper,
Dapper is a great word.
:)

I DON'T need them to like me

     As I spend hours picking out an outfit I'll let them see me in

I DON'T need them to like me

     As a wrong look can send me spiraling

I don't need them to like me

     As I spend my weekends alone

I don't need them to like me

     As I cry myself to sleep

I need them to like me

     As their every word dictates how I feel.

Baby I want to live forever,
I know you do too,
Pipe dreams we can't let go of
Doesn't mean you can't give me your love

I'll do my best as long as I can
layers of my skin in the trash can
pieces of my nose
where only rats go
if this is how I keep you
I will slice right through where the doctor drew
forget about my birthday
I'll be 19 forever
Starvation is the only way
to give you immortality-however
none of it is real
and you know that deep inside
so after all I have denied
distorted and betide
lost every inch of my pride
you will cast me aside
and everything I deride
will have died
knowing
if I stay alive
again again again
I'll continue to try
and with every attempt
I'll lose all content
take one more knife
and decide
it'd be best
if I died.

They tell me it's simple,
really not that hard to do,
Even if you don't believe it,
try to,
say and pretend you do and it'll help.

so I try.
I try my best.
but the words sting my tongue,
they make my heart sink
and a pit bubble in my stomach.
Sometimes they make me cry,
because I try so hard
to believe the words I'm saying
I'm trying so hard to make them true
but I can't,
because I know those words are lies.

"Look in the mirror
and tell yourself you're beautiful,
that you're worth something."
But I can't.
Because it's too big of a lie.

Down in Piedmont park
lovers are necking
dogs panting
squirrels gathering
girls basking in the fiery sun
and film crews hustling to and fro,
down in Piedmont Park
the trees whisper words
to the poets curled up
on historic benches,
the grass brushes softly
under bare feet-
new borns giggling at the new feeling,
down in Piedmont Park
people live their lives
and offer little glimpses
to stories
so much bigger
than Piedmont Park.

I'll never have the style of J.K's **** chic
Nor the grace, sass, and presence of the black she-goddess.
The blondes and skinnies and populars and poors
will never look at me with desire.
no,
I'll never be like them.
I can run and follow,
but when the swans glide across the water
I will drown.
I can chase them
squealing for approval
but when they take flight
I'll be left behind.

I'll never be beautiful,
wanted,
rich,
fabulous,
admired,
be the object of another's jealousy.
No I''ll never be them
I'll never have that life.

I'm an ugly pink pig,
but just as an ugly pink pig,
there's nothing I can do about it.
So **** it all
I'm an ugly pink Pig,
I'll grow tusks
be a nasty slobbering Boar
I'm ugly I know it
and it's time to stop crying
time to stop feeling miserable.
I'm ugly and you're gonna know it
won't be able to avoid it
I'll shove my crooked nose in your face
your eyes will play connect-the-dots with my acne
My endomorphic fat will make you glad you're not me
My scraggly hair will give you relief over your haircut
my much too big head is gonna leave you admiring
your fine-sized head in the mirror.

Go to the city friend,
go and live and be glorious,
should you need me
I'll be in the farm
hidden in the swamp
slobbering and snarling
with the company of bugs.
and there,
my friend,
my swan,
my hero,
my goddess,
there, I shall be happy.

It's time for the rehearsal
a hearse rolls
up the gravel driveway
the highway
is closed for business
bunnies
in black suits
hopping along with white flutes
playing along with the tune
coughing in the fumes
the tiny angel is shouting
it's a parade
it's a parade
scratching at boils sprouting
pretending
pretending
the earth isn't covered in something blacker than shade.

A song comes on the radio
and it's quite catchy and fun
and I'd like to hear the lyrics
so I can find it later-
but I can't hear
because nobody else cares.

They chatter-scream-and laugh excessively loud
because they've all heard this song before,
know it by heart
finish to start,

and that's how it is.
They all listen to the same music
watch the same shows and movies
know all the jokes
all the comedians
and stories
they already know.
I try to catch up
and watch what they watch
step where they step
and sing their songs
but there's too much catching up to do
and not enough time
they're too far ahead of me.

So I give up.
Lengthening the gap
between me and the rest of my peers
only isolating myself further
incapacitating my ability to connect.

I'll watch my quiet foreign movies and syfy shows
and learn my own jokes
and continue to listen
to my odd quiet music.
They know their world,
and I know mine.
and no matter how hard I try
to visit theirs,
I'll never be able to stay.

Unless I'm crying,
I never spend more than 10 minutes on a poem.
Even then, 10 minutes is quite rare.
I wonder why I'm not a great poet
but that lies simply within my time.
I could write philosophy
and deep words that resonate
and be like the poets I admire,
but you see they all spend time on their poems.
They think it through and have something to say.
I just write,
blindly, quickly, pointlessly.
my poems are simple
and dull,
quick rantings of a messy teenager
with no conviction
or strength
or beliefs
or heart-
just quick words written in a minute
that mean absolutely nothing.

I often wonder what I could do,
should I spend time on a poem,
but I've got no conviction
no dedication
no patience
so I write poems in a minute-
I paint words and frame them
before they've begun to dry
so they drip down across the canvas
and make a mess of themselves
and get jumbled
and end up useless and ugly and dull.

But I keep doing it.

Rhymes
tempo
  symbols
   diction
keeping the audience enthralled,
opening your heart,
cracking your eyes
perspective uncanny-
mainly a pile of crumpled papers

poetry is hard.

My eyes burn as I read these sweet words,
these sweet lies.
Where is the harsh melody of reality?
We are taught to pretend since birth
then when things get too real
we get scared
and lie to ourselves and others
to give the illusion that everything is okay
that we're still full of hope
that we have something to live for
and that in the end we'll al be happy.
When will we sing songs of pain?
sons of trials and hardships?
Why do we learn to lie
when we can become strong,
intelligent,
poweful,
innovative,
working to change the world so we
do not have to lie.
But instead we are taught to be scared.
Taught taht we cannot do this alone
and that dreams are nothing more than that.
We were created for amazing,
unthinkable things,
but taught so we may be easily controlled.

Sometimes I like to think about these things,
about what it would be like if we didn't lie
and operated at full potential,
but then I get scared,
scared of the horrid realization
of just how wretched we all are.
I do not like what I see,
So I lie.
Instead of changing things,
I protect myself,
Run like a dog with its tail between its legs.
I pretend that we are good and clever.
I act like I still have hope
and that when I die, I will feel fulfilled.
When I don't know what to say,
do,
or think,
when i feel scared,
When everything seems lost,
I do what everyone does...
        
          I lie.

Sasha's greatest hits
*******
shaved clean
young thing
short hair
fake blonde
pouty stare
bullet wand
strip tease
there to please
unblemished-
                       smooth skin
stick ******* thin
tormented by how
I just can't win
measure up
*******
fantasy feline
maybe next time
you'll want me more
than your perfect pornstar *****

Boys talk of the best legs
hair
lips
and body
specific to each
that palpitates their ferocious hearts
and it makes me weep
for I confess
facing mirror
I have none of these,
not an inch of me
there is none to speak of
or dote on.
The girls shame boys
for objectifying them
but oh
what I would give
to be objectified
just once
treat me like meat
treat me like I could yet be desired
for that is all I want,
love
and desire
and objectification.

I just want to be pretty.
I want to look in the mirror and not want to cry
to not hold back the urge to drive my cracked fist into it
and shatter it
in hopes it'll shatter me as well.

I want cheekbones
defined arms
sultry curves
sturdy, thin,
long legs.

I want to be skinny.
I want to be pretty.
I want to be noticed.
I want someone to tell me I'm pretty
to tell me they like what they see.

I just want to be pretty.
I want to have a chance.
Boys don't look at plain girls like me-
and neither do the girls-
nor do the teachers.
nor does anybody.

Plain, scraggly
flabby
slouching
gross thing
that I am,
resembling a monotone thing
that crawled out of Satan's ***.
I'd like, just once,
to look in a mirror
and have a genuine smile,
to think I look okay
to not have this mutt body
drive me further into my shell
ashamed to look at people
ashamed to have people look at this
ugly dawdy body.

I just want to be pretty.

coffee

nicotine

routine

coffee

nicotine

routine

coffee

nicotine

routine

These harsh wounds on my face
were once mistaken
for "smile lines",
I could not muster to say
these lines were truly
from the thousand hours
I have spent,
in agonizing sobs.

Hear the bass
louder louder
driving you insane

look at that fire
consuming
transforming

hellish entity
that is your
insatiable yearning
to be touched

See you quake in your boots,
so sick,
can't resist,
Everything wrong,
everything sick
too irresistable,
something's wrong in my head,
something of desire,
a ***** little need,
get down on my knees
I got no problem,
I will plead.
Take me,
take me anyway you wish
take me fast- take me strong
take me till I'm black and blue.
I swear to you,
there's something wrong with me,
I'm broken rag doll.
I've been sewn up, time and time again,
tearing at my seems --begging to played with,
please just one more time,

I'm nothing but a broken rag doll,
pulling at the seems,
crying out with my ***** little needs,
I'm nothing but some cloth strung together,
waiting to be broken,
expecting harsh wounds.

I'm not a porcelain doll,
don't think I ever was,
I was born in the mud,
broken in the corner,
sewn up by your lies,
stitched closely by these wounds.
I'll tell you time and time again,
I'm nothing but a broken rag doll,
pulling at the seems, crying out with my ***** little needs.
Sick little wretch,
who pretends to be so good,
a sick little monster
who begs to be flesh and bone,
I'm nothing but a doll,
forgotten in the memories,
broken and fixed
far too many times
that things are starting to get loose.
Do you understand my need,
I see you stare across the room,
you quake in your boots,
I know you see a sick little monster,
and that's what I see, staring back.

Chubby quivering droplets falling from the sky,
splattering themselves across my skin.
Too foolish to look up from my computer screen,
from my technology,
publicity,
my box.
To see the many shades of moss green and grey
that had been laid like a blanket
across the city
overnight.

Running.
A compulsion.
Tight tank top,
shorts,
sneakers,
and gloves.
I run with my long hair down,
whipping wildly as I dash down the street.

Into the forest I go,
It’s dangerous they say,
There are bad people there,
But I don’t care.
I run through the forest,
Dodging trees,
Hopping over logs and ditches,
My heart beating faster with each
Ominous rumble of the distant thunder.

As I run,
An uncontrollable smile breaks out across my face.
1 mile marker,
2 mile marker,
3 mile marker,
4 mile marker,
of nonstop running
and a nonstop smile.

Fresh air,
With the calming scent of rain.
You can’t run forever though,
I reach the end and see a gate,
I could go on but the thunder rumbles ferociously,
Beckoning me.
Thunder is easy to ignore when you’re otherwise occupied,
But when you’re stopped,
The irrational fear of the distant booms take over,
And I run back.
4
3
2
1
out of the forest with the lightening and
beating of the drums
smacking at my feet.
I come inside,
Soaking wet,
I open my window and turn off the lights and open my computer to write a poem.
The power goes off.
The thunder rumbles kindly,
As if asking me to come back outside,
In nature.
How beautiful it is, this rainy weather.
How sad it makes me, to know that tomorrow
I will still be wet,
Not from rain,
But from sweat.

I love the grey,
I love the moss,
I love the flashing of lightening
Streaking boldly across the blank canvas above.
I flinch at the thunder.
But I smile as the rain comes down,
Breathing vivid life into a bleak world.

chikity chikity
like train carts
along an old railway
chikity chikity
chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck
rattle me
like a cage
made of bones
from your old friends
chuckity chickity
shaking shivering
like a ******
on the verge
of losing
the only thing
she was told she is worth
in God's eyes
chickity chickity flick
flicking along
along the tracks
with you steaming the engine
coal in the fire
burning brighter
chickity chickity chick
chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck
down tracks you've been before
and will go down again
again rattling me to the core
chickity chickity chick
chuck-chuck-chuckity-chuck
because      you       can.

I looked,
I looked long and hard
and shouted-
"you're ugly,
you're atrocious
you're revolting
boring
and plain
aloof
unobservant
and so, so pathetic.
You're nothing but a useless,
worthless piece of trash
My God, could you be any more sad?
Stop those tears,
Nobody cares.
It's true what they say,
you'll never be loved,
you can't even make a decision by yourself!
So many symptoms, so many ails,
stop blaming them all on your daddy issues.
So you say you wanna die?
Then do it,
what's stopping you?
praying that someone will miss you?
Well grow up, because they won't,
grow up, grow up!
older with each day
but still just a child inside,
cocooned in your ailments on a tear-stained pillow.
Stop crying,
you ***** little mutt,
why do you keep waiting for others to sew you up and fix you?
Is it because your bones are so weak
you can hardly rise in the morning?
Is all of this true?
You know it is,
My God, you are such a sad little creature."

I've said all I've needed to say,

So I step back from the mirror.

I thought I was doing so well
and lost so much weight
and hell I felt pretty
and I put on that dress
that ugly blue dress
and I thought I looked okay
and was proud to look okay
in that ugly blue sparkly dress,
but then she took pictures
and showed me the result
and I nearly broke down crying at the horrific sight.
Hiding my tears, I finally realized
no amount of dolling up
and no amount of weight loss
is going to make me pretty.
I'm ******* ugly
and a nasty little swine
a fat porker pig
a mole on the earth's pretty face
coal that can't become a diamond
a face to make goblins laugh
I'm ******* ugly
and that's all I'll ever be.

He pressed a pillow against her face

to put her in her place.

His tongue snapped scars

while she looked at the stars

and broke bones

with a bat when he was out of stones.

large rough hands on a tiny neck

leaving her locked on the deck.

He commanded her to love him

or he'd break a limb.

she always lied

or never replied,

it was all too much a bother,

rather, it was all too much a father.

The air feathers around me
like the tender embrace
of one that is not there
it feels so joyous
but so torturous

I shudder

this isolation

akin to religious torment

is breath taking

Foot tapping anxiously against the ***** pavement,
Body curled into a tight ball
concealed behind a pillar.
Invisible to all,
save for one.

Circular surveillance camera,
your eye trained on me,
what do you see?
Do you see what I see,
looking up at my warped reflection?
I see nothing.
I see something invisible,
pointless,
afraid,
cold,
but the most striking thing about the reflection,
is just how empty it is.

There's nothing there,
the people pass by without a glance
and I give up.
Like light paper
I let the wind pass through me
and carry away the remains.
I allow myself to cease to exist,
because in reality, I never really did.

short skirt
tight shirt
tall heels
big hair
pouty lips
walking through the streets at night
destination: anywhere that's free
just to challenge
anyone who walks by
to see
if they want
if they want
if they want
if they want
to give me a release

No color but red lips and luminescent green eyes.
My hair flowed into my golden corset dress,
into my pale legs,
to my golden heels,
they weren't my favorite heels, but they were small,
and you were rather short.
    The black hair
you spent hours styling
lay across your face just right.
Black, skin tight jeans hooked
to a plethora of belts, buckles and chains,
complimented by the black and blue shoes you kept
religiously clean.
A checkered, black and blue button-up
with a black and blue scarf laced carefully around your neck.
You carried a complicated satchel by your side so that I could be handsfree
You told me I looked beautiful,
as you fidgeted with the
skull ring I gave you so long ago...

Us against the world,
trailing behind the rest,
Waltzing down the city's streets
arm in arm
clutching a black umbrella
as the rain came rushing down around us.
The neon lights of New York
creating reflective neon pools along
the grungy streets.

Thunder in the distance
and lightning
snapping across the sky.

What a beautiful night,
for perfect seats at WICKED.

What a beautiful night,
for a sushi dinner.

What a beautiful night,
to forget how sick we were,
or why I was mad at you,
or why you were mad at me,

what a perfect night,
to put the umbrella down
and let the storm take over
for a memory
of a time
when we still knew each other.

What a perfect night,
to end our friendship.

Who are you
tall and muscular
where can I get eyes like that?
your voice mingles
and cloaks itself in thunder
violent
and strong
better than Hercules
what should I do
to woo you?
be fast and strong
femme version al you
be still and sweet
for you to protect my meek
Is there nothing you can't do
brash giant
gentle ******
vengeful warrior
wrathful knight
careful cat,
*where can I get a man like that?

"I like you an awful lot, kid"

He knows that when he asks me if I'm okay
tears well up in my eyes.
He knows I smile brightest when he speaks to me.
He sees
he knows
"I'm trying to figure you out"---
I didn't know he was trying.
I didn't know he cared,
but he cares about all of his students
and I'm lucky enough to be one of them.
He says that he's always there
that I can talk to him,
but sir, what would I say?

I should work out
or do laundry
or eat dinner
or do homework
or be productive
and do things that need to be done.

but I sort of just want to curl up in a ball,
cry and sleep.

I do that every night though...
but then again,
I like a set routine.

Let me grab your hand,
rough from long days,

Feel your heart beat slow,
as your stress begins to flow..
away and away it will go
as we venture into nowhere
into everywhere...
Where we can rest easy
and be free
from the ****** insensitivities of society
and forced compression of our precious time...
Of these stupid expectations
and plastic things we once thought were ideals...

Take a breath from this pleasantly lurid fantasy,
and come away with me.

If your ship does not come,
swim to it.
If you find there is no wind,
pull it with your teeth.
If your captain does not know the way,
then steer it with your gut.
Should no crew wish to accompany you,
get a smaller boat.
Do not let hunger or fierce waves or storms hinder you,
think of them as if nature's most powerful forces
are congratulating you on your way.
Do not fear the sinking of your ship,
for as long as you do not doubt,
your ship will keep on sailing.

It really makes you think
Watching your blood flow down the sink
     Falling
Convulsing as I cry
No one had bothered to ask "why?"
They didn't mind when I kept my mind shut up.
But now my entire body is locked up
Before I spoke only lies
now silently I laugh at their desperate cries
They beg me to come out
They beg me to speak
But they will only hear me shriek
They have not taken any drastic measures
  and I've been in here for far too long
can they hear the reapers song?
I know they do not care,
so I have a secret to share,
The Reaper and I,
we plan to die.
We spend each moment in darkness
every minute of every day
We have realised this is to be the only way.
I'll meet her there.
In our suicide lair.
We'll down pills and alchohol and fall asleep.


It's three hours past,
Somehow I knew the pack wouldn't last,
my reaper has fled
and soon I will be dead.
I weep as they flood my system
I know that something is not right
I soon begin my agonizing fight
they will not come out
ignoring my horrified shouts
  I'm too full of fear
not enough courage when the onlookers snear
Where is my love who has helped me heal?
What have I done, and is it real?
I'm nothing more than a ripple in the ocean.
I took my life to save another.
Sala Samobójców
@The Suicide Room is where I cancel all hate.
@The Suicide Room is where I cleared my slate.



@The Suicide Room is where I sealed my Fate.

My life is like sand,
kinda nice,
kinda irritating,
and very quickly slipping through my fingers.

I don't want to go home
don't make me go home
I'm trying my best
but failing
I can't stop crying
I'm so scared
please don't make me go home
I don't want to go home


but I have nowhere else to go.

I could write for hours

of a life that doesn't exist,

I can feel it even with open eyes,

cautiously glazing past

the rural          

jagged world

I resist

Allowing it all to feed off me

destroying my life under the guise of coping,

and only furthering the incoherent dread of which I consist

Where,

at the end of a cold night,

should I release these age-old turmoils?

it seems,

only unto these clenched,   ****** teeth.

Jade sauna
just over body temperature
to increase metabolism
smooth blood flow
and sweat out toxins
my hair is up
there are no lines on my pale smooth face
I'm happy and peaceful
I look so serene
and so skinny
"'scuse me you speak Russian?"
it's one of the cute foreigners
I've had my eye on
flirtations ensued
and it was nice
to be looked at
with fascination
with cute wonder
getting complimented
through broken english
as he ran his hands through his hair
smiling abashedly
trying to make sense of my words
as I did the same for his--
we were up all night talking
"no halloween in Russia,
but if had, you be Queen"
he knew nothing of me
just this peaceful calm side
that smiled and giggled
and carried a conversation
like a feather on the wind
he saw a girl he could smile at
and say
"you are very beautiful"
"you have lovely smile"
I'll never see him again in my life
but what a wonderful memory to have of someone
nothing but kind words
and laughter
and peace
serenity
a few of the things
I treasure most,
yes,
what a lovely memory
of Annex the smiling Russian boy
who drank tea with me
at the Jeju Spa
until the sun rose
and the lights came back on.

I woke up on monday,

and,

being frightfully ashamed of my bloated pig face

and stringy hair

and thick arms,

I stayed home and locked in my room,

wishing I could remain there always.

I live to make others happy,
all the time,
every day,
until my selfish needs boil up inside
and I scream out
"WHY?!"
"WHY CAN'T I HAVE WHAT I WANT?"
I pray,
tell you daily,
I want oh so little,
so tell me
why,
why can't I have what I want?
What I want makes me happy,
makes me smile so big,
Makes me forget everything that hurts,
but tell me why,
why can't I have it?
Every class is canceled,
all my friends are stolen,
I can handle it but tell me lord
why can't I be happy?
Why,
who's so broken
and twisted,
why when this broken rag
finally falls
for a gentleman,
a man who is not stick thin on *******,
striped up and down with tattoos
nose itchy from addiction
and a back hand
that leaves black and purple
to compliment my pale skin
tell me lord why is it all taken?
Why can't I have it?
Why can't I have just one thing?
I feel ashamed for wanting,
I feel ashamed for caring,
but lord sometimes
I give everything I have to others
I live to see others smile
but lord when do I get to smile?
Lord when do I get to look in the mirror
and smile proud
and love all that I see?
lord tell my why,
why can't I have it,
Why can't I be selfish,
just for a day,
I want to be happy.

Seems far.
Really close.
chest tight,
hands shaking,
tears welling.

Just a few short months
and I'll go out into the world,
I'll have to leave behind
the only family I've ever had.

and I'm ******* terrified.