Walls are not meant to keep others out,
but to keep yourself in.

A few weeks ago we took a trip down to Indiana to bring one of my best friends “home”
This was a boy who has been living with us on and off for six months,
His mom he hadn’t heard from in years finally added him on Facebook,
He was thrilled, he couldn’t wait to see her. He had heard through the grapevine that he wasn’t the only child anymore.
She convinced him that she had cleaned up her act, knew how to take care of a child.
He could barely contain his excitement, he packed up his things and was ready to go.
With a heavy heart we drove him across state lines.
Dear his birthmother,
I say birthmother because you will never be his mom though he tries to convince himself that staying with you is the right thing to do.
He feels like he owes you for carrying him in your womb for nine months.
Thank you for not ending your pregnancy like you did to those before him. This was the first, and quite possibly the only good thing you have ever done for him.
Your son is the most loyal boy I have ever met.
This is a teen whose life possessions fit into two garbage bags
I understand that I have no idea what you’ve gone through.
But I do know he sat by your side at five years old through chemo treatments and hospital visits. I know as a daughter of a cancer patient, seeing your parents die before your eyes makes a child grow up far too fast.
I have more junk from birth to age five then the possessions he has ever had in his lifetime.
How dare you threaten to throw his stuff away when we arrived,
His art project thrown on the floor, his arms left empty when waiting for a hug.
As soon as we crossed state lines I saw signs that said "Turn around" and "Is this the right thing to do". I've never been one for superstition but my heart skipped a beat.
He’s never lost his smile in the seven months I have had the privilege of knowing him
Hugging him like he’ll escape
He was not born into our family tree but he is my brother
How dare you act like you are entitled to him.
I hate that we are leaving him homeless without the ability to contact us.
I can tell by the tears ebbing in my mother’s eyes that she feels like we are passing the torch onto the next family
A few weeks ago we spent days finding his things, it was a game of hide and go seek putting his past together like a puzzle.
He has had more homes than I can count on my hands.
My mother has more love for that boy in her ******* then you do in your whole body.
I get it, sometimes the world spins a little too fast and you can't keep up with the blows life is going to deliver.
And yes you are going to fall.
But after you abandon your child for eight years with a man you know will beat him and starve him, how in God’s name can you still consider yourself a mother?
He has been taught his whole life to say little, eat little, and do far too much.
He talks about quitting school just to get a job to pay for your cigarettes that have replaced your chemo to make up for everything you’ve done for him.
And prays that he will never end up like his dad
But how can he not with this vicious cycle of neglect?
He will be the one trapped in the web of the system when this is all over.
I hope your son’s life is worth your unlimited cigarettes.

“Come on, get up.” There are days when I do not leave my bed. It is not taking a stand, not a hipster statement, it is exhaustion. I’ve spent the night dancing with dreams of ending my survival. Surviving the night was a fight in itself, I am not ready to do battle with my demons all day.
2. “Don’t call me after nine.” I won’t call you. I won’t call you when I have a gun pressed to my chest. I will keep my phone in my hand with your number typed in it at 2 am but I will never call, no matter how bad things get. I will tell myself that it is not a big enough problem to bother you with.
3. “Stop apologizing” Each move I make is overanalyzed like I am playing a game of chess. I am afraid every carefully planned move will end a friendship, end my life. I do not want to leave this world suffocated in regrets, and I am sorry if my saying sorry is too inconvenient for you. To me, an apology is one less tie keeping me here.
4. “You’re life cannot be that bad” Yes, the grass may be greener on my side of the fence but last time I checked life wasn’t a competition on whose existence was plagued with the most tragedies. Tell me what the point system is for each disaster life has thrown at me, I will turn each list in at the end of the month. Tell me where I stand.
5. “No one cares about your problems” You’re right. I’m sorry.
6. “People won’t want to be around you if you aren’t happy.” I didn’t realize my life was a play I had to memorize the lines for. I will get right on that.
7. “Pretend” I will put on my best mask. I will change my inflection. Not even my best friend will know when I am hurting.
8. “Happiness is a choice.” I can choose to smile even as my world collapses around me, but even if I were frowning the context wouldn’t change. I am still destined to fall in the rubble.
9. “It’ll be okay” Though this may seem like a comforting proclamation I don’t exactly remember the last day I was “okay.” Okay seems like another label slapped on the same ****.
10. “Just do it then” Fine.

I wish I could turn back time,
Force the hands on the clock to spin backwards
Memories flash by, broken fragments of a life I used to call home.
Can you hear me?
Age 15, I come out of the closet. I am stuck in solitary confinement for nearly a week. I lock myself in my room, tears turn into razors, razors turn into release, I begin a cycle that cannot be broken.
Age 14, they take him away. My baby brother rushed out in a flash of white. Mother and father are crying, I do not say anything. It is hard to understand how I could have done something like this. I should have realized that my selfishness stole the spotlight away from him. He is locked up for a week after trying to suffocate himself, he tells me that he no longer wants to live in my shadow. I wonder what day he will take up metal and lead and solve the problem I created.
Age 13, it becomes clear to my parents that I am not quite right. Days pass without me speaking. I’ve lost my voice somewhere within myself there are days I wonder if I will ever get it back. I want to tell them I’m sorry so I apologize in my best handwriting and pray to god one day they will forgive me. I try to drown myself depending on strictly my own weight to sink me, I am saved before I lose consciousness.  
Age 12, things are really good now. Mommy and daddy spent a whole day talking with me. They’ve told me they are proud of me.
11,
Age 10, Mom and dad are at war, our house feels like a battlefield and I am on the frontline for both sides.  I’ve carried my weight, fought for both cavalries, but is clear neither of them are going to win.
9, 8, 7,6
Age 5 – I sneak downstairs. Mommy and daddy are talking about how much I’ve grown…unhealthy…they wonder how many more dollars they will have to pour out on me for surgery. I notice that they don’t want to be around me as much anymore. For the first time I realize that I make their lives harder.
4,
Age 3 –My mother picks me up from my cradle, slowly trying to rock me to sleep. She promises there will be a day when I feel better. Tears stream down from her face.
2, 1,0
I am sixteen now, sixteen and still addicted to the cycle. I am no quitter. I do my best work until the cycle ends itself.

Confessions to My Best Friend.
1.I found fireflies in your eyes the first day we met.

2.We both know I am the ugly friend. I will take that title gladly. You are the most beautiful girl in the world, trust me. My memory has spent hours retracing your face trying to recall your voice back to consciousness. I've played it back so many times you sound like a broken record, it doesn't sound right anymore.  

3.I know how perfectly pathetic it is to still consider you my best friend.

4.I know that line sounds like teenage angst, but I promise there is more to this story than that. Give me a moment.

5. You've taught me that everything comes to screeching halt. I have long since given up the idea of our reunion

6.I check, no, stalk your facebook constantly to make sure you’re still happy.  
7. I hate the fact that I have to use the word stalk like some stranger seeking out your profile. I hate that I have to break the rules set by your parents. I hate that I am not allowed to stand by your side anymore. I have memorized the last post before I expose myself to pictures of us.  I know not to scroll back that far. I have perfected the art of protecting myself.

8.I know trying to move on is futile. I have never been fond of being ****** over twice. Fate always seems to switch out my full hand for a loosing one. **** best friends. You know what, **** friends. It’s easier that way. (Excuse my language)

9.My worst fear and biggest hope is that you will forget about our friendship, take our seven years and erase them from your memory. Maybe you will forget about him to.

10.I wish he had ***** me. Now this seems sick and twisted unless you know our backstory. I wish I would have been enough from him. I never said no, ground my teeth in to dust never letting my vocal cords betray me. I prayed that he would stop at me. Your parents blamed me. It’s okay. Your parents are right. I know I could have given him more. No amount of therapy or self-love could ever place the blame somewhere else.  I would have given him anything if he would’ve agreed to contain the destruction and keep the casualties at one. But a war cannot be solely fought with two hands. I wish I could have kept the nightmare to myself. I tried to protect you. If you get anything from this know that I tried.

11.I know you toss and turn at night trying to glue the fractured puzzle pieces back together to fix your broken psyche. I am sorry I am not there to help you glue the pieces back together. I know it would never be perfect but I would pour every ounce of my being into fixing it together.

12.I have written hundreds of poems strictly about you, some of them have won me medals but they always feel forced. I try so desperately to pump life into the lines but only those who know what happened can read between them and get the whole picture. Our friendship feels like a sick inside joke never told. This is the only real poem I have ever written about you. It is not written to sound pretty, not full of clichés and lines that fit together. No. It is as raw as the cuts we’d get from falling off our bikes. It is as raw as cuts on arms. It is as raw as suicide notes. Trust me. I will take the blame for those to.  

13.I have not prayed to God in a year. The last day I saw you was the last day I believed such a being could exist. No amount of church can make the past a brighter place.

14.When you told me I was no longer allowed to talk to you I felt my whole life collapse around me. I cannot rebuild. I cannot move on. I cannot stop the destruction of my sanity, nothing is safe anymore. I am afraid to touch anything in fear that the purity will be corrupted by my hands. I see you everywhere I go, in turquoise, and teal, and rainbows, and storms. I see you in stars, and constellations, and my little ponys, and skyrim, in cancer ribbons, and vampires.

15.I burned the draft of the story we were writing together about vampires and demons. I never got a chance to thank you for helping me come up with a plot and letting me test it on you. Your character drove the book, now I do not dare to pick it up. I know how cliché it was using our friends as characters. I have given up writing it in fear that someone may think I am crazy believing monster exist. I am a failed poet and most certainly a failed author. Break character. Make sure everyone knows that it was just a story, that I am not crazy, just my methods.  

16.I will not deny that I am angry with whoever wrote me into the script as the bad guy. I was never a bad influence on you, you taught me how to cuss, how to fight, how to be myself. I taught you to let go, to be strong, to hold on. I don’t see how our friendship was malignant on your health but as long as you feel better now, I will take my punishment with open arms ready for more.

17.I loved you. I loved you as a sister, as a friend, as my world. I still love you the same. I have a stack of pictures in the hole of my mattress hoping that maybe one day my dreams will come true and I will wake up and this past year will have been a nightmare.

18.Yes, it’s been a year since you blocked me on your Facebook without explanation. And maybe that is the worst part, trying to dream up what I did wrong, where I hurt you, where you stopped caring.

19.I realize that you will never see this poem, but my only hope for relieving this pressure on my chest is to get it out, to make it stop suffocating the life out of me. For the longest time I hoped you were miserable in a life without me. I wanted to know that you hurt half as much as I do. That’s the thing with poets, we have a habit of making everything revolve around us. But this is to us. This is to friendship. This is to staying up until three am to finish this. This is to brighter futures.

20.There is nothing in the world I want more than to be by your side. My existence has feels like the beating pulse behind a bruise without you. This is the last poem I will write. My words cannot paint a better situation, a better ending. I love you, and if you ever need me I am just an add away on Facebook.

Trigger Warning: mention of suicide*


Rain
The pitter-patter on windows
Like a rhythm that's just slightly out of sync
But makes a tune nonetheless
Tiny droplets of polluted liquid
Can make a better beat than my heart
I am broken and left behind
Like a porcelain doll that takes abuse from a 7 year old
I feel unwanted
Yet I see my friends' smiles, hear their laughter
Trying to get me to join the conversation
But my eyes
They grow blank
I have daydreams of when we talked
When we knew each other
The days on the playground
The nights we'd look up at the stars together
And hold each other's hand when no one was looking
We were the other's secret
Locked in a closet
That suffocated us
Grabbing us by the throat until we no longer breathed for ourselves
We were all the other had
We were all the other needed
We were all the other wanted

But fate will find ways to break you
Kick you until you're halfway to Hell
We were separated by parents who didn't understand
They said we were "too attached" to each other
That we needed to distance ourselves
I told you to stay strong, to believe that we could meet again
You told me to never forget

Separated by those who didn't understand
Your last words to me were to never forget
But as your suicide date rings in my head
Burns through my eyelids as I try to sleep
I see myself forgetting your face more and more
And I fear that one day I'll fail you
And forget those days at the playground
Those nights holding each other's hand
Our reflection in the rain

She tells me that I am a failed experiment,
One part tragedy and two parts disappointment.
She tells me that I need to DIE.
She’s more than just a voice inside of my head
She is a completely different person.
Renting half of my brain
How can the one thing that’s mine feel like a shared space.
I am split in half
I loose control, loose footing in a life I falsely call my own
I lose time, seconds, minutes, hours, days
I cannot function with her
But I cannot function without her
I “wake up” and my legs are bleeding,
The blade in my hands.
I wonder how long it will be before she kills me.
I cannot stop her.
My friends call her Spider
She is a black widow, eating her mate after he has served his purpose.
She is manipulative.
Capable of killing in just one bite.
I am passive, she is aggressive.
She is destructive, angry, jealous, violent,
Unstable - A natural disaster, I am the eye of the storm.
I am the end of chaos.
However,
I am shy, and weak, but innocent, feeling destroyed by crimes I did not commit.
We are yin and yang, 2 parts of a whole
Both wanting different things...
Wanting this body as our own
Doing everything we can to make the other submit.
Mirrors are my worst nightmare,
The girl I see is no longer me.
Coated in black makeup,
Dressed like I’m in a punk band.
I do not remember getting dressed this morning,
I am not sure how I got to school.
When did I do this assignment?
Wait, that was today?
Where am I?
What is my name?
Why are you screaming?
I can’t take this.
DO NOT SCREAM AT ME WHEN I DON'T DO WHAT YOU ASK
I have no recollection of you asking
Why are you mad at me?
We fought?
When?
What did I say?
No...I'm not making this up.
I am so, so sorry...It’s just been a “bad day”
If only I could tell you what's truly wrong  and not sound insane.
It’s more than just forgetting
It is a lapse in the conscious - a constant tug of war that never seems to end.
I have spent most of my life faking being functional.
I cannot sleep, she and I do battle in hopes that one of us will reign victorious.
How do you **** something that is inside of you?
Help me
You cannot see the destruction of my mind
I am standing in the middle of the wreckage and you claim that I am "making this up"
It is impossible to survive this way.
She cuts this body leaving her mark so that I can never forget that I am not alone.
It’s wrong to feel this empty, hollow, beating myself up just to know I’m alive
She tells me it’s time to go - But quitting would release the monster forever
She is not safe
I am far too weak to contain her.
I am losing myself to her again…
Goodb-….*Hello