From start to finish I wonder why
The cuts look good in this messed up lie
The blood that trickles down my arm
People all stare at the girl who self-harms:-

"The emo" they call me
I turn to my name
They act out slicing their wrists
I hang my head in shame
I can't help my feelings
Of being alone
I hide myself for the day
Just longing to go home
I sprawl on my bed
With my razor in hand
And take myself away
To a much better land
I stare in the mirror
And let myself cry
Looking forward to the day
That I finally die

like the carvings of ignorant man
we dance
strange colours
words uttered
beyond recall
we seek strong shelter in weak arms
and breathe turquoise sin
against red skin.
i look into deep wells that speak
of him
of her,
they
them
i wonder

my hands melt
your features blur
into soft nothing
into cloud brilliance
inside soft nothing
we weep willow
of sadness conquer
of past that bleeds
and present exceeds
all of the wilted
promise' of old

they sing for a soul
without ears
without capacity
to ever hear

listen

the dull hum

of life,

who gave you wings

has forever come

forever undone.

She told me
She would rather a broken neck
Than another broken heart
I hugged her then
For there was no right answer
Just the silent acceptance of the fact
Life is pain, sometimes too great to handle

Dreams are so fickle a thing
Vivid, intense in the moment
You can feel her hand in yours
Taste her kiss lingering upon your lips
Hear the beautiful sounds of her laughter
But in a moment, all gone
The shrill screams of an alarm
Shattering the tranquility of a moment
Found only in your dreams

you see,
my poetry
is written by hand.
and my hand
is an extension of my heart. because I can find no other way to express how it
continues to beat day after day without fail than to move my pencil to the same rhythm
and no
I don't always keep perfect time
but neither does my
   heart.