I would love
to fill my
lungs with water.

Unconditional love can take hard work,
but don’t forget it can become a gain.
As you dodge each other's weak spots, you smirk.
Just remember a mean cheat can cause pain.
It becomes an agonizing workout,
that takes the most time out of your routine.
When you realize just how much time, you shout.
The load of severe time loss is obscene.
Try to escape, but you won’t get away.
You're trapped in a love that tears you apart.
Every marriage turns to a harmful play,
that waits until you're trapped to break your heart.
After escaping you will return soon,
you will be there dancing in the full moon.

Everyone talks about depression as if they know it.  

But what they don’t know is that depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway,

it’s feeling the blood dripping down your skin and having the sick thought of  “Oh, look how beautiful the red is” (they always say red is my color).

Depression is lying on your bed for hours on end, salt tracks lining your face like the scars on your ankles, staring at your ceiling tracing patterns in the paint and accepting death in life with this hole in your chest because death is a reward, an escape from this pain you deserve to feel.

Depression is writing sick poetry on skin and publishing it with scars, cutting on ankles, not wrists because you’re scared you’ll get in trouble but you so desperately need to be seen, and never are.

Depression is writing the word “alone” and seeing the word “home”, accepting the pain like a gift because you deserve it.

Depression is admitting suicidal thoughts to paper and not to people, and loving the broken things, hoping to tie them together, thinking maybe things will get better, but knowing that’s just wishful thinking.

Depression is hearing your mother call you monster and disgusting through the too-thin walls of your door when she thinks you can’t hear, and then telling you to your face that you have no right to cry, as if sadness is a privilege and you’re so pathetic that you don’t deserve it.

Depression is shutting yourself up in your room and hearing your family laughing downstairs because you feel like you can’t be a part of them and learning at a young age to love family always but that family isn’t always love

Depression is wanting to take love and your heart and break them into tiny little pieces and throw them into waves, to throw them away

Depression is a foot when the shoe hasn’t been broken in yet, is you when you haven’t broken life in, is seeing happy people and thinking they all look the same, like the front covers of magazines with smiles reaching their eyes when yours can’t.

Depression is wishing you could package your smiles into tiny little piles and hand them to people more deserving of them because you know you’re wasting them with half-assed lines of “I’m fine”

Depression is having to view your past as if it wasn’t yours, because to accept it as reality is to accept finality of your life through suicide.

Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway and when you close the door out of fear it keeps pounding, possessive, ******, and when you open the door out of anger you shout, “I’M SCARED” to thin air but your voice comes out as a whisper.

my father is a fortified man 
with dark, verdant eyes 
that shame the forest moss
that burn harsh and cold
seeing through deception 
honest, stern, but fair

my mother is a gentle woman
with soft, cerulean eyes 
that transcend the clearest sea
that glow bright and warm 
always saying the right thing 
tolerant, caring, but unwavering 

and I was born with that azure gaze 
though mine is not same 
on half my left eye
a drop of my father's jade 
and so I see the world 
as an even balance 
through both my parents eyes

I hide, but you find me.
I escape but you capture me.
There is no love, only horror.
I found your notes,
on the gravestones of my family.
My mother, father and brother,
they are my town, my home.
You took them away, and tortured me.
I try to run, but you scratch and bite.
Pieces of my flesh gone, memories changed,
bones broken, and hope astray.
I hope you rot in this place…

You are a violent beast,
trapping me in this ugly cage.
You’re lethal, and delusional,
watching every step I take.
The trickle of blood,
falling down my neck.
The colors swirl together,
making an ugly black blank
of nothingness as I slip
from consciousness.
The pain leaves and
I waste away wistfully
into a blur of shadows.

Run, run, run, I cannot hide.
Pools of blood near my side.
Run, run, run, pools of blood.

You’re as frightening as a nightmare
pulled from the deepest thoughts
and fears inside me.
I now sleep endlessly,
as the memories
consume and
devour me.

You'll never be her

She was my first. She was my first date, my first love, the first one I wanted to build a home and have a family with.

Her face was the first to meet my family. Heck, she became part of our family. She was the first girl my mother loved for me.

She too was my first heartbreak; the first one to build me up and break me down. Her knowledge of me was the same as my knowledge of myself.

But she too will never be you.

She'll never be the one who picked me up when I thought I was never going to get back up.

No matter what she does, she'll never be able to love me as much as you do. She'll never know me more than I know myself like you do. She could never make me realize that I'm worth more than I think I am. She could never make me feel any happier and more contented like you could.

My love, know that you should never compare yourself to my past. There's a reason why she's there and you're here with me right now. The reason is because you are the one I love.

You are a gift from above. You are my present. Everyday I pray that you remain my present when tomorrow comes, and God knows I would do anything to keep you.

So do not bother yourself about it. Shed your worries away, for as much as you'll never be her, she will never be you.