Her Masterpiece Is Her Story

Her paintbrush is a razor,
Her canvas, her wrists,
"I deserve the pain."
She shrugs and insists.

One day the brush will push down,
And it will cut so deep,
That this girl will fall
into an eternal sleep.

She doesn't remember how she started
What brought her interest to this,
How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss?

No one would have guessed that she does it.
No one would have considered this one.
This girl is forever fighting a battle,
that she thinks the demons have won.

Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs,
and if you look in her old trash,
you'll find her letters of goodbye.

Her masterpiece is quite disturbing,
Her masterpiece is a little gory,
Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.

She compares herself to every person,
She is compared to each girl.
She thinks she's hideous,
And there's this boy that is her world.

She was bullied and picked on,
She was teased from head to toe,
Hard to believe that her best friend,
was her one and only foe.

Then later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure,
and it was just in due time...

That this girl couldn't take it anymore
She'd decided she was done living this,
So one day she went home
and decided to end it.

Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown,
Hard to believe this girl at school,
never ever wore a frown.

Sometimes she'd just fall asleep crying,
Praying that she'd be enough,
Because she didn't want to leave her family.
She knew about their sweet love.

This girl found hope in small things eventually,
She soon would see this beautiful light,
and find a REAL best friend,
that helped her put up a fight.

Her masterpiece soon was leaving,
Her artwork was almost faded,
and it gave her a sick feeling,
the feeling of being jaded.

She found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists,
And this boy too had a masterpiece,
placed close to his wrists.

He related to her and she related to him.
She kissed his artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him,
Her masterpiece now wasn't just her own.

Her masterpiece effected others,
Her artwork wasn't just for herself,
She now had people,
who saw her cries for help.

And then her family found out,
So then they saw the art too,
to them they were just scars,
To her they were the truth.

She's trying to be okay now,
She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think
to take away the knives.

I gave you everything
you said you wanted,
and more
but none of it was enough
because it was all from me
and I am not enough
for someone like you.

And He said
I am a mathematician Hannah,
I find beauty in chaos,
And you girl,
You are beautiful
Unconventionally beautiful

A mathematician who could
comprehend her
Quirky sense of humor
And knew that she was
really just a loser
Yet
Loved her anyways

They were
Blessed by love,
a love so powerful
It could break down any wall
but
Cursed by basic geography

She told him of her fears,
And he told her not to worry,
He’d always be by her side

And he said
I love your broken Spanish
I love your heartfelt poetry
I love your ocean eyes

She asked
Does this love make you shiver?



He brought her
smile back
put up with her
inner maniac

Her hair
Like sunshine
And his was
The dark of night
            
He was smart,
Good at everything she wasn’t
But somehow,
They found peace in each other.

He could find the solution
to any problem,

She could write pages upon pages
of beautiful poetry

His intellect was beyond compare,
Until it came to her.

But when
She looked at him,
her ocean blue eye
Were met with the
depth of the earth in his

He filled every crack
in her faulty brain

I know a writer
She seems like quite the fighter
her arms and legs are covered in scars        
But her eyes are so full of stars

I know a writer
Whose future couldn't be brighter
that always seems so sad
Or maybe just a bit mad

I know a writer
Who couldn’t shoot higher
She always looks up on her strolls
For the sky holds all her goals

I know a writer
Sleepless over her typewriter
She often falls asleep in class
But, she has a smile that could cut glass

I know a writer
Who frequents the overnighter
Sleep to her is a foreign ideal
She knows not how it can heal


I know a writer
Who is quick to tire
An hour or two
It’s ever so true

I know a writer
Who's not an outsider
So full of compassion
She runs with a faction

I know a writer
And she's kinda a whiner
Loud and proud
Much like a storm cloud

I know a writer
She's nothing more than a cipher
With her secret codes
Hidden in all of her odes

I know a writer
Who couldn’t be nicer
Always smiling at strangers
She's a real game changer

I know a writer
Who fights like a tiger
She’s stronger than most
But she isn’t one to boast

I know a writer
Who bites like a viper
She can be malignant
But only if you’re distant

I know a writer
And this may seem minor
But her vivid imagination
leads to the beauty of creation

I know a writer
Who couldn’t be wiser
With a heart for spoken word
Though she’s often left unheard

Self hate is like- a tornado.
It tears apart everything it touches
Making you want to rip apart your own skin
Dark and dangerous and destructive

Much like us-
Constantly editing our existence to appeal to others

As a person, living here, seeing what is on the media every day
It can be hard to keep these self destructive feelings at bay
                                                             ­ 
But I-
I am obsessed with becoming a woman confident in her own skin
Confident in the person I am to become
No longer etching out my flaws
But rather- pointing out the good in myself-
like I do so well for others

I am not going to apologize for taking up space anymore,
I am no longer going to tear myself down-
to build up those around me.

Yes they are beautiful,
but so am I.
And…
So are you.

They are right when they say,
you are your own worst enemy
You break yourself apart
Attempting to mold yourself into
something you are not.

But there is an answer,
Loving yourself,
Valuing your own existence
Self love can-
Both keep you alive and-
Bring you to your knees.
It is stronger than any-
Natural Disaster

What people don't understand is,
It is okay to love yourself.
It isn't conceited to think you are pretty, or intelligent.
There is no shame in admiring the things that make you, you.

A name is but a label that has branded us for life
Hannah
A name such as my own, Biblical in nature
Meaning so much more to me than “The grace of god”
Hannah
With a heart for spoken word
And a mouth more than capable
Hannah
Who knows the great pleasure of the perfect phrase
And always has something to say
Hannah
I’ve got a way with words,
And I’m stronger than most
Hannah
A heavy heart,
And gentle hands
Hannah
With uncle lost to a smoking gun,
At the scene of a suicide
Hannah
A snapping turtle beneath my skin
Timid but fierce
Hannah
With intellect in my veins
And curiosity all the same
Hannah
Like a pine cone
Those rough and pointy edges remind me of my own
Hannah
Made from good intentions
And full of pride
Hannah
Backwards I am the same,
For I have only one face.
Hannah
My two-toned mind
Damaged, but alive
Hannah
My bipolar-stained brain
Depression? or mania?
Hannah
Because what good is “the grace of god”
if he only chooses to pit you against yourself
Hannah
For I am my only rival
Or Peninnah I should say
Hannah
For while god's word may be gracious
It is my name not his