He couldn’t love her.
She was too dark.
Her insides were too twisted
and her brain was too sick.
Her bones weren’t sharp enough
and her soul was out of shape.
Her eyes were tired and blurry.
He couldn’t love that.
She couldn’t let him
love the Devil.

She didn’t want the feelings anymore.

She didn’t want the lingering sadness after a short high of happiness.
She didn’t want the questions eating her up at night.
She didn’t want the worry of what she was and what she wasn’t.
She didn’t want to wonder if she was doing things right or completely wrong.
She didn’t want to be the home to violent hate for herself
but the same home to a vibrant and gentle love for him.
She had to get it all out.
She needed to reach down and take all that was within and put it outside of her.
She needed to **** what was in her.
She needed to purge all of the bad that was disguised as good.
These pretty butterflies fluttering through her belly had to leave.
Her stomach and her throat and her heart were no longer their flying grounds.

First, a few fingers reached
but didn’t get the job done.
Then a forceful full hand with nails full of flesh and blood tried to make its way to the creepy little critters that made her stomach tickle with sadistic love
but to no avail.
Finally, a full hand and half a forearm tore through the esophagus and the stomach lining.
At last, she could get them all out.

She sat hung over the toilet with a satisfying pain
that a pretty devil told her was the only way to get the buggers out,
the feelings out.
Slumped over the toilet,
she noticed there was a sweet and sour twinge of numbness dressed up as happiness running through her mind.
Hundreds of dead, black, sad butterflies floated at the top of the toilet.
They were all out.

She didn’t have the feelings anymore.

Note: This is a spoken word poem. Read aloud for best affect. Poem will read with a natural flow.

When life hands you lemons
You make lemonade
Remember when that was one of those little phrases made
When your best friend's smile would fade
Out on the playground
And you wanted nothing more than to see them smile
So you took their hand and jumped in the leaf pile
Because lesson number one was about friendship
And your best friend meant more to you than that
Bus ride home sitting next to that cute boy from school
Back when charm bracelets were cool
And a date was a playdate was a trip to the pool
And there you learned lesson number two
Loyalty
Because when your best friend couldn't swim, suddenly
Neither could you
And you sat and splashed
And had a lot of fun all the same
And it was just the beginning
Because you learned that being loyal was better than winning
That schoolyard competition of hoop-spinning
Even if you didn't know what loyalty meant
You  knew that seeing your friend win
And seeing them happy
Was much better than winning yourself
Sometimes
And lesson number three came on your very first
Friend's-only shopping spree
And you finally felt free
Because you had fifty bucks and, I mean,
How much more money could there possibly be?
And you walked into that store your big sis had been in
And your tomboy best friend tried on her very first dress
And that was when you learned that beauty comes in all shapes and sizes
'Cause you knew it would have been a major lie
To tell her that she didn't look absolutely beautiful
But lesson number four wasn't like the ones before
Because this one smashed down your door
And you vowed never to be friends with your BFF anymore
Because she texted that guy you like...
...Or so was the rumor that spread through your school
And this lesson was about trust
You learned to believe those who mattered
And ignore those who didn't
And not long after, the saying "Honesty is the best policy" came true
When you lied to your mother about what you were gonna do
After school
And when she found out, like all moms know how to
You sobbed and you cried
You felt like you'd died
Needing one thing and only one thing
Needing it more than food to eat
Or water to drink
Or air to breathe
You just needed Mom to believe you again
And so you discovered lesson number five: Honesty
And you picked up a few things along the way
Like always look both way when you cross the street
Like always turn in your homework on time
Like sisters before misters
Whatever that would mean
You were only fourteen
And like knowing which way to go
Like knowing to tell people when you were going
Like knowing that someone would always want to know where  you were going
Because someone would always need you to come home
Because someone would always love you
Even if you felt like the most worthless person alive
Because you had been left behind
You'd been cast aside
Even when you cried for days on end
Felt like you'd never live again
Like everything had been pretend
Like you didn't have a single, solitary friend
That was when *your best friend learned lesson number six
The one about being there for each other
And even when it stung
Still tighter you hung
Thinking nothing would ever get better
Not wanting to hear that things would
Even when you knew that things could
And eventually, the years went by
The time did fly
And the painful memories faded
And there you stand on the first day of freshman year
Filled with fear
But feeling triumphant, knowing the past was past
The pain wouldn't last
High school would fly by fast
And as you walk through those halls
Sticking to the walls
Hearing your friends' calls
You think, "Huh. Isn't it funny, the stuff my parents said I'd find
All in due time
Are all things that I've dealt with before?"

One time I saw a boy,
with a bright smile,
walking down aisle four.

He reached out to me,
and said hello,
as I reached for a cantaloupe.

His mother talked to me,
said he was an angel,
was always nice to every stranger.

That boy,
he made me smile,
as he ran down the aisle.

A few year pass,
and I'm at a cafe,
wasting my life away.

You hear about hate,
and how strong it can be.
It's something I don't believe in.

But hate found that boy,
and tore him right down.
Saw his face in the Sunday paper.

They heckled him to death,
till he could no longer take it,
thought his life would be better if it was taken.

Cause when life is a weight on your shoulders and you're ready to break,
you think about giving in.
And when life is a burden and you feel like a mistake,
it's easier to quit rather than living it.

One time I saw a boy,
with a bright smile,
walking down aisle four.

Gray. The gray walls. The gray desk. The gray chair.
Even the gray teacher stares back at me.

I look outside to only find myself in company with
The trees. The green, vibrant, and lush buds of the trees..
Oh, how I’m intoxicated by its beauty.

I keep staring out  the pain window glass..I am in the tree,
Touching the velvet buds, looking down at the purple, pink and Yellow roses and daises budding.
Nothing gray can be found here!

I am snapped out of my day dream by the gray paper and gray Pencil landing on my desk. The gray voice saying you have
A gray amount of time. It’s wrong…It’s wrong! It is
ALL wrong! What is heaven to hell, like gray to nature?
I long for freedom, color, and vibrance…not gray bars!
A jail cell! That is what it is!

Substance!
I need substance to sustain me or I will feel empty!
Time is ticking..the buds are turning..my life will
Soon be consumed by gray but I won’t let it! Break
Those gray bars holding you in this cell and just a
Touch upon those green buds…that new life…will
Make all the difference. I can not be put in this reality.

I live in my fantasy. I want to be free with the yellow
Sunshine raining on me. Back in my daydream..but
Now it is bitter-sweet you see. More! I want more
Than gray! I want to feel chills run down my spine as I
Touch the supple leaves of the willow trees and the buds
Of the daises.

The sunshine is pouring on me and I am
Just about to reach out and glide my fingers
Along the smooth branches…until I am snapped
Back into a reality.

I see gray. The teacher calls another gray amount
Of time. My paper is blank, but my mind is not.

It’s time to slump back into my gray world you see,
Because my Fantasy can’t last forever. Only until
The day I am resurrected when the final bells ring
Freeing me from society will the gray Melt away.
The gray teacher carries on and on...but I look back
Outside you see,
And I don’t feel so empty.