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1.3k · Jan 2015
̶F̶r̶i̶ends
mae Jan 2015
When we were younger,*
we believed the rumors and the lies
until we couldn't anymore say goodbye.

A little older,
we thought the friends we had would be our only
relying on the fact they wouldn't get too nosy.

When Middle School came around,
I was left in the dust
crying in self pity because I had once thought of trust.

At home that night,
I thought of you
how you said to me I'd always be your crew.

Waking up in the morning fresh and new,**
I remember faintly of your words
and what they used to do.
1.1k · Jan 2015
Why Need It?
mae Jan 2015
All alone,
cold
desperate and confused,
my body rejects you
and so should you.

I have more,
studying
stress and anxiety,
for my brain lacks something
other than babbling.

Vocabulary,
accentuation
factitious and consternation,
I can't handle it
for I am just too dull for it.

Why need it,
with so much pain
suffering and torture,
we could do without
so we don't have dropouts.
1.1k · Jan 2015
Tiddlywink
mae Jan 2015
You won't ever say an apology,
for I believe you are just too cocky.

You walk as if you have class
and you act as if you are made of teargas.

Why do you do what you do
when you know I have high virtue.

I wanna scream and tell you all that I think
that you always make me **** with your zelda and link.

That you have indescribable foot stink,
and is horrible at tiddlywink.
989 · Jan 2015
Nothing Is Perfect
mae Jan 2015
Nothing I do is perfect, and that's what terrifies me.
I stare and stare at the crooked lines and microscopic germs,
not able to be seen under the naked eye.

My room intimidates me to the extent in which I'm afraid to enter.
The mess is obscure, chipped paint off the walls and pencils thrown to the sides in utter frustration.
I can't focus when what I'm doing isn't exact.

Math causes me to panic.
Not because of the algebraic expressions, but because of the erase marks that always litter the paper afterwords that never seem to hide.
They're always there, showing off how horrid my handwriting looks.

The idea of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder makes me want to scurry.
I know I'm a living example of it, and I know how nerve-wracking it is being around me.
Because everything needs to reach my standards, and nothing ever does.
924 · Jan 2015
Someone I'm Not
mae Jan 2015
I try to be the friend,
that no one ever was to me.
Maybe one day,
I'll have someone who cares as much as me.

I try to be the heart-mender,*
that no one cares to be.
Because it all ends the same,
with the heart breaking and no where to flea.

I try to be the class-clown,
that everyone adores with exceptions.
For some reason,
I was still being called a boring deception.

I try and I try to be someone I'm not,
that's the main reason for my style.
Because nobody will ever remember,
the girl with the shy smile.
593 · Jan 2015
Someone Is Enough
mae Jan 2015
Someone once told me that it was okay to cry.
I opened up, sharing my deepest secrets and insecurities, and she simply left. I guess she was one of them. One of the people who are fine examples of giving up.

Someone once asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up,
I told them I wanted to help. Then they laughed,
claiming helping would never get me through life. Saying I could never become someone who saved lives.

Someone once helped me through the deep end, swearing on their life they'd never tell a single soul. I got confronted one day, and my entire world collapsed. I lost complete trust, I was lost and betrayed.

Someone once promised me that I could do anything and everything. And that was the day my life turned around. I had faith, not only in myself, but in the road ahead.

That someone was me.
558 · Jan 2015
Stresser
mae Jan 2015
I am the stresser; in which the stress controls me. It powers me up and tears me down.

It's the reason behind my failure and my mistakes in which I hate so passionately.
522 · Jan 2015
Terrible Sister
mae Jan 2015
I hate her.*
I know I shouldn't since it's not her fault.
But I just do.

She fights her inner demons.
I just annoy her, her prickly voice being too much.
I just can't help it.

She threatens to **** herself.
And all I do is edge her on, one minute by the next.
It's hard not too.

She sneaks out to have ***,
I scoff and tell her to, "Get a ******* education."
And she breaks the tiniest bit more.

She swallowed pills to end her life,
it didn't work, because we knew what was happening.
And then we all snapped.

She blames it on her condition,
throwing fits and telling us she'll **** us in our sleep.
And I believe her.

She's mental, a psychopath, a verbal abuser,
who knows what'll happen the next time someone fights with her.
No one, not even Him.

She believes she's lower than the dogs,
and I tell her she's lower than the ground.
Because I don't understand. .

She calls me a "spoiled princess" and blames me.
I get where she's coming from after all I've done.
And trust me, I'd blame me too.
I had no intention to be offensive to anyone if that's how you took it; my sister's living with BP NOS (Bi Polar ; Not Otherwise Specified) and everyday is living hell for everyone in the house. This poem is how I feel about it, how someone actually feels living with someone with a sibling who struggles with a Bi Polar disorder.

It's heartbreaking, especially my reactions.
In which I don't take too much pride into either.
479 · Feb 2015
Everything
mae Feb 2015
Your eyes are wonderful
and your smile is too
Your laughs' contagious
and your heart is true.
450 · Jan 2015
Untitled
mae Jan 2015
It's okay to be upset.
Especially when you have to put Gram Gram down.
I try to be funny way to often.
394 · Jan 2015
Growing Up (10w)
mae Jan 2015
The world is growing up,
and I'm stuck behind in 2009.
366 · Jan 2015
escape
mae Jan 2015
Friends shouldn't be afraid
to be themselves in fear of being judged or abandoned.
Most of my friends,
I'm afraid I'm on the verge of loosing.

Either if it was a dumb mistake
or something I've done wrong; they'd make me sorry.
But I know,
I won't loose you.

I know I have a friend,
who I can be open with and be someone I am really.
I can tear off the mask,
and never press delete.

Miles apart and hours behind,
it seems like it was never meant to happen.
But we took control of our own fates,
and pushed our lives together either way.

You know I love you,
and I know you love me.
So why is it so strange to me
to finally have someone who won't judge me.

— The End —