Pen and paper the escape of the mind.
The Place where a thought is now not a thought.
The words now written aren't seen as just feelings, they are seen as a way into the mind of those they are written by.
Words that cannot be spoken because they just don't sound the same. When you cannot put the words together seems like your mind is going insane. With each stroke of the pen it seems to get easier, the thoughts become words on paper, they no longer consume space in your mind. Allowing you to move on.

I have never starred at a blank page and never not known what to write.
Its like the words  no longer express my feelings, feelings that are no longer short phrases or poems of emotions.

My feelings  are inexpressible they have become so complicating.
I have mentally blocked out what was my outlet " Writing". I was once able to let out my emotions on a page and leave them there, But now its like I write an emotion and gain twice as much back.

I have lost my battle  and my strength to continue to try. As I sit here writing I realize that this may not make sense to anyone else but me. If you are reading this I have never wanted to make sense to anyone, because these are my feelings . I am just writing how I feel

time travel is not just theoretical anymore -
I do it all the time when
I think of soft red sweatshirts
boyish high pitched laughter
the smell of day-old Old Spice
quiet lips;
tired morning breath
your hands
coming and going

I am pockmarked with battle scars
invisible to everyone but me
The world has waged a war on me
that I still don't want to fight
Armed with nothing,
prepared by no one,
I have only survived through trickery,
slight of hand,
and stubbornness
Childishly, I consistently cover my eyes,
ignoring the monsters looming in the shadows
"If I can't see Them, They can't see me"
Still, these monsters come
Resisting Them has made me weak
and They only grow stronger,
feeding off me,
leeching out all the color,
and turning my world gray
Soon, we will come to a ******
where I must fight Them head-on
I know I will lose
There is no denying that
My doom crawls ever-near
Now it's just a matter of time

I tend to get distracted by nature
too often.
I stare at sunsets while driving,
       almost swerving into the other lane
    wanting to follow it.
I ignore my teacher's lectures just to
  peer outside the window;
the leaves seem greener when it rains.
Even as I'm writing this I keep glancing
behind my back towards the window,
  after every line

My favorite thing to do
   is to lay on the grass,
eyes towards the sky,
           watching the clouds roll by
   imagining I'm lying on top
                 of one
           instead.

You said you need somebody
that's warm for December.
But I've been freezing
for as long as
I can remember.

Fire and blankets
don't keep me warm.
I shake like a dog
who's been out in
a storm.

I'm rushed to the hospital
to find out what's wrong.
Sitting in the waiting room,
"The doctor won't be long."

They cut me right open,
and look in my chest.
"She doesn't have a heart!"
Just like everybody guessed.

Time is but a concept that we all fall for.
Time is just a rendition of
     a song the stars play by
Yet here we all are
     thinking we've got all the
            time in the world
While it slips by faster than
     you can say
            goodbye.

I was named Peter for a reason
Come on, i'll take you away from the hurt
You'll be my Wendy
As we transcend into Neverland