When you're silent,
anybody can write your story.
Your silence becomes their interpretation.
Arrogant face.
Cigarette in-between pursed lips.
Glaring eyes.
Place your assumptions.
Little did you know,
it's a mask.
Her silence is barricade from showing
the most integral part of herself.
Her silence,
is filled with pain of yesterday's unnoticeable wounds on her hips.
Her silence,
one day will be forever.

When your tears just flow without hesitance
Or when someone asks why you look so sad but nothing's on your mind
And it seems that your existence wants to stop existing itself
But you just don't know anymore
And you don't know how to answer anyone or yourself about how you really feel
All you know is sometimes you feel high
When you feel down

We are what we are,
And we are nothing more,
But what if what we are,
Is just what I was looking for?

Dear Me,
            You ask only others if your work is good, you never actually trust in your own judgment. People have told you your writing is beautiful, so why don't you believe them? It must be the same reason you don't find yourself beautiful, because when you read your work or look in the mirror you wish it were different. For others to enjoy something even more the maker should be confident, so why aren't you? I hear you telling people who love you, you have no worth. I hear you telling yourself in the mirror you hate what you see. I hear you crying at night because of all the hate you hold for yourself. I hear you sitting in your bed gouging your heart out every night because you wish to be different. I've wrote to tell you to stop! When you do this you're hurting me the most, for I am the only one who's tortured by these sounds, for I am the only one forced to hear them everyday. Please stop, for you are killing me! I don't want to suffer anymore...... Please, I can't take this pain much longer. I know you're stronger than this! So please, please....... Please......just stop.