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Hannah Clifford Feb 2018
I was twelve years old when I got arrested, they brought me to the cells and took my mugshot… reminding me that I will never be free.
I learned when to speak.
Only when you're asked,
never put your head up,
don't you dare share an opinion, even if it's in class.
I learned that my life…
Was never truly mine to begin with. Just something another person can use at their whim, then dispose of.
I was twelve years old the first time I got arrested. They put me in cold metal cuffs and threw the key into rivers of tears I have yet to shed, but will come.
I was twelve years old the first time that I was arrested. My life looked bleak and I could no longer speak because my mind was not my own.
The took a permanent felt tip marker and wrote their names on me.
I was twelve years old the first time I was forced to be something I'm not. I was tortured until they found what they wanted. They proceed to shackle me with trends to follow, cover me in my prison uniform of tight skirts and crop tops, and read me my rights. Though it's clear to me now that i have none
I was twelve years old the first time I got arrested.
Change the laws and let us free. Let me once again know what sunlight feels like upon my shoulders without the restraints of people trying to diminish difference in the world, when all I wish to do is preserve it.
I was twelve the first time I was arrested….
I was charged with the act of being myself, and sentenced to life without parole.
Hannah Clifford Feb 2018
If you took a million pennies and poured them into the ocean, you'd have a beautiful sight.... a million pennies in the ocean.

Did you think I was going to turn that into something more? Perhaps a metaphor or some sort of stunning imagery?

I suppose I could talk about the copper that glistens as it falls, drifting farther and farther down. The rays from above will catch it at certain depth, then release it just the same.

I could turn it into a fairy tale. Say that when the painted zinc hits the floor, beautiful copper coral will flourish throughout, breathing life through all who meet it.

But the thing is... I can't say any of that.

I CAN say that a million pennies were poured into the ocean. I can say that the fauna below may die from mistaking food and money.

You cannot make things into what they are not. There are no dimensions if you refuse to see them. There are no sun rays and fairy tales, there may be turtles, but I'll never know.

All I know is that there are now a million pennies down below.
Hannah Clifford Feb 2018
Dear *******,
Stop playing with me. I don't know if you do it for amusement or just to be an ******* but I am done playing your game. Makeup you ******* mind because lord knows that I have.
You need to stop it. Stop sending me smile and kissy emojis one day, then ignore me the next.
Or tell me that I’m pretty today… then state I look like trash tomorrow.
I don’t know what your deal is. Maybe it’s that as people we are miles apart.
You are attractive, i’m not.
The video games we play are far from similar.
Maybe it’s because the music we like is so drastically different. And yes, sometimes I get mad at you suicide jokes, but I know that you are a good person.
What really gets me mad though is this back and forth. One day you want to have a full fledged conversation and some days, you can’t even look me in the eye.
I know that I’m weird compared to you. I think puns are a gift from god and you think that my double chin selfies are disgusting, but I thought you could overlook my awkwardness… but I don’t want you to overlook it anymore… i want you to embrace it.
Maybe I’m just overreacting? Maybe to you I’m just a friend, and that’s okay with me, but you have to tell me. Believe it or not, I am not a psychic.
If I am just a friend, then tell me that i am just a friend
If you like me, but you’re also talking to other people then tell me so that I don’t have to shut others out because I’m confused if something is going on between us.
And finally, in the rare case that you actually like me, then for the love of god TELL ME
And if you want nothing to do with me… then tell me. And if you think I can’t handle that… then ***** you.
This is a spoken word I wrote last year.
Hannah Clifford Feb 2018
Please be careful. I know his intelligence is intoxicating, and his presence is a drug that refuses to leave my system and in return give me side effects. Wonderful, wonderful side effects

But stomach, you will ache for days at a time. Pounding wings against your sides send sharp tinges of amusement through my body. He's not the first boy to give you butterflies, but he is certainly the first to let lose a zoo.

Arms, stop pulsating for just a moment please! I know you need to soak up his embrace, but it will only leave burn marks on the skin. He is a hot coal, brutally beautiful, and it will only leave you with a scar.

Oh, but eyes! You see him so differently. An elegant light surrounds his frame, and every imperfection is that much more entrancing to you.

My poor brain. Thumping emerges and the blissful images of his smile refuse to dull. I beg you to stop thinking. Of him. Of me. Of us. Stop thinking of him, when in the brilliant ocean of his mind I am not a single wave.

I just need to close my eyes and forget...drift off .... but it's hard to sleep when your mind is at war with your heart.
           Heart please stop buzzing at uncontrollable rates. His enthralling outlook is no reason to go into cardiac arrest. I promise you, as much as you hope and pray, brain is right. He'll end up being like all of the others, and I don't know how many more times I can pick you off the ground.

His presence is a drug, and I'm addicted to every part of it

Update: I overdosed

— The End —