NO*
This
Can't
Be
Real

For whom would I write a love poem?
I fall in love (or is it lust?) too quickly
But I am thrown out just as swiftly.
And right now?
I'm happily drifting
Down a river on which I live
Fast and loud
Carelessly, fecklessly
But for no one but myself
Maybe that could turn into a trend:
"An ode to the one I love
The only one who can change my life
Me."

I remember
A time
When all I desired
Was to fit in
Unharmed and unscathed.
But I never really fit the image
Or the clothing they tried to stuff me in
I carried a little extra skin
Creating every curve.
There was a time
When these curves disgusted me
And I did everything in my power
To hide them.
But why hide?
I was made a woman
Beautiful in stature and in knowledge.
So one day
I just said
"**** it."
I wasn't meant to blend in
But to speak out instead.
I am not ashamed of anything
And so I lay it all out for you
Every bit of me lays
Right in front of your beady eyes
*Here I am.

Simple man, where'd you go?
You were always there for me
As quintessential as anyone could be
I'm on the edge and I'm missing you tonight

You were my hero
You are my star
Your name will never leave my lips
Thank you, simple angel
I cannot wait to see you again

Lovely man, where'd you fly to?
Everyone adored you
As a mentor, a father, a friend
Could I ask for anyone better?
Why must these things end?

You were my cheerleader
You are my rock
Your name will never leave my lips
Thank you, lovely angel
I cannot wait to see you again

I fall apart so rigidly
And the pieces of my heart
Are causing me to bleed
Do you see us hurting for your return?
I'm sorry for disappointing you
I'm sorry I told her you would be just
Fine

You are my protector
You see me through
Your name will never leave my lips
Thank you, beautiful angel
I cannot wait to see you again

You entered this world so simply
And you went out with a bang

Gunshots fire
Telephones ring
Crowds become mobs
Children scream
Why do we choose to ignore it?

The "American Way" is
So inwardly, selfishly focused
And yet within our own little world
Racial tensions are stretched to the limit
Gender roles still exist
Little girls are told they are not pretty enough
And never will be
Little boys are told that if they cry
They are weak
Why do we do this?

Then, peak across the globe
27 million slaves
Yes, they do exist

150 years after
The most "advanced" country in the world
Eradicated it
We can and choose to
Do nothing to stop this epidemic.

Think of your daughter
If you have one, or ever hope to have one
Consider a man who is significantly older than she
Buying and selling her as though she is a toy
To entertain older men
And their sick and twisted desires.

Ten years from now
I want my daughters to be safe
Fifteen years from now
I want my sons to know
That women are humans too.

Twenty years from now
I want my children to feel accepted
No matter the color of their skin pigments

Twenty five years from now
I do not want my kids to think
That money can solve their problems
I do not want them to be as sick of hearing
How rapidly our unemployment rate has risen
Even for the most well educated of those among us.

I am not okay
With the standard
That my predecessors have established for me

I do not accept
The path that people have paved in the past
And they expect me to walk down it rigidly
As if it is my role

I am *******
That this world is failing
To give us, the underdogs, the outcasts
The ones who are "too young to understand"
A fighting chance at not only surviving
But truly living a fulfilling life

So aren't you?
Our children deserve a better world
A better path
So it's time we pave them one.

Tell me what's really bothering you*
Well, if you would really like to know
How petty and pathetic I really am
Then here it goes.

You see,
I'm afraid of being alone.
I don't mean without a partner
Even though that may be a long term fear.
But I am currently concerned with
People not accepting me.
Losing all of my friends.
Even losing myself.

Perhaps it stems from
My father telling me I have no social skills
And ridiculing me for it daily.
Maybe my own self-image
Has destroyed the hope that anyone could be okay with me
Because I am not.

Either way,
It has caused me to refuse any compliment that comes my way.
I never expect love
And luckily I am seldom surprised
When things do not work out.
Why would they?
I do not deserve to be happy.

I wish I could explain this to someone
How I am lost with no direction
No GPS or map telling me
How to love myself
Or how to accept it from others.
I cannot function like people around me
Because they probably hate me anyways.
And the mere thought of that scares the hell out of me.

So, as for what's "truly on my mind"
There you have it, my dear shrink.
And you can shove it up your self-righteous ***.

You keep me safe.

I am the locket held close to someone’s chest, cherished by the illusion of being. Should I be opened and unhinged, the exposure will make the picture dry out & fade away.

An administrator at work sees the shallowness of my breath & the pools surfacing in my face. I am left alone with 200 students bursting with beautiful & untamed energy. His arm around my shoulder, he says, “Hide.”

Everything is dizzying here, but somewhere, this alternate world gets me to stop apologizing.

My grief flows, a creek spilling over its edges from small floods. I let the air hold me still.

Before I report, I cannot see through the smoke I become.  “What if no one believes me?”  She says, “I do.”  I sink back into my body, but at least I have returned home.

I have evolved due to the pain of this world
Or that is what I would like to believe
But what if, maybe
I have not changed at all?
Perhaps
I have always been this way
Perhaps
The thought that
I could keep every meal down
Was an illusion
Am I a prisoner of circumstance
Or a product of my own mistakes?
I simply do not know.

Knuckles that turned white
As I hold onto old addictions
They start to bleed red
So I let go.
At first, I feel blue
For I must overcome this
But my body wants to continue being comfortable.
Purple bruises cover my heart
As this is too much for me to handle.
Overtime,
A yellow light shines through my eyes
My face regains its pink and rosy hue
My world is not grey anymore
And finally, for the first time in years
I can see the world
In color once again.

Did you ever know me?
We were inseparable
Walking through flourishing fields
I was always "your girl"
But we began to drift.

Did you ever know me?
I never let you see
The heinous parts of the
Life I really led.
It was like specks of dirt stuck underneath fingernails
And I could never get it out.

Did you ever know me?
I would have gone to the moon and back
Just to see your face one more time.
Why do I feel so guilty
That you're flying high?
I couldn't have stopped it
But I could have said goodbye.

Did you ever know me?
The last message you ever sent
Was to my mom, talking about me
Getting sick at work.
"I hope Sarah feels better"
"She must be embarrassed."

Did you ever know me?
If you did, you never knew this side
The "Life After Grandpa" has not bode well
With the an emotionally damaged me.
Crying every day
Being afraid to be by myself
Fear that everyone will pass away
Before I can say goodbye.

Did you ever know me?
I know you're watching over me
But you are also watching me do stupid things
Like talking to various men
Who want me for one reason.
Having a physical relationship with my ex
Who was horrible to me.
Smoking until my lungs go black
And my brain goes numb.

Did you ever know me?
Well, even if you didn't
You do now.

Depression.
When I say that
I am not talking about
The immense grief that consumes you
After a tragic event takes place.
Thats the kind that other people get
That they understand.

I am talking about
The dark sheath that wraps your body
So tightly that it gets hard to breathe
When all the free meals stop coming
And the funerals are finished.
Like cellophane, it constricts you
So that every bit of movement and circulation
Are cut off and shut out.

It's like you are trudging through mud
The thickest, most vile mud you have ever seen or touched
And it is not the mud that is half water, half dirt
But rather is mostly condensed soil
With a small bit of liquid added to it to make it impossible to walk through.

It is massive and sludgy
So much so that it takes your entirety to travel mere inches.
You are so focused on swimming through this mud
Putting all of your weight, power and force into it
That life kind of goes on the back burner.

This trek wears you down to the bone
Mentally and physically, you are weakened
And society expects you to just move on and be "fine"
But they don't know
They don't know.

Its an internal war with external effects
That people whom are not directly impacted
Judge and critique.
Who are we to consider the fighters of mental illness
Any weaker than we are?

Frankly, they battle to be strong every day
Because they are fighting to keep fighting
And their disorder has no hold on them.
To the ones who lost the battle
We fight for you too.

Oh, my dear
Why do you still come around here?
You remain unwanted
By all those who reside in this town.
You never were a very good neighbor
Always screaming louder and louder
Until someone would give in or give up
And it happened nearly every time.
You convinced the entire area to do terrible things
Causing unrest between previously coexisting vessels
And now everything is a mess.
You did this, oh Great Destroyer
Mental illness,
Why do you linger here in my head?

What did it feel like when you passed out?
Blackout, spinning in endless spirals
Chasing some shadow that appeared to be there
But wasn't.
There was a shallow depth
Ears silently rings
Irony making perfect sense
Just like the pure soot in my lungs.

What does it feel like to talk to your parents?
Like soft noise.
My dad spews static from his mechanical mouth
Words warped by the Republican Party and Fox News
As well as his religion.
Words that have tried to oppress me
Calling me a ****
Telling me I am fat
And that ignites the fire.
Lighter fluid poured into my mouth
And boy, do I have flames to spit at him.

What did it feel like when your cousin touched you?
Broken.
His hands were broken
As they didn't know what to do
And yet they did it anyway.
His words were broken
"It's just a game"
Were the tectonic plates that slid against each other
Causing an earth quake.
My heart was broken
As it had been molded for the first time
By a man who would never love me
By someone sick and selfish.

What did it feel like, cutting and purging?
Like dragging jagged metal
Across soft skin
Like diving into a lake full of sweat
With a body covered in cuts
Like a snake meeting the back of my throat
Allowing me to dry heave until
My thoughts, my anger, my control
Find their way back out of my body.
Like a jealous spirit ripping my sanctity from my being
Leaving me on the cold, porcelain tiles
Or on the bottom of the bathtub
Wrapped in a blanket, shaking
Or worse yet, naked
Forced to face myself
Alone.

What does it feel like to find people who care?
Better than you can imagine.
It's like people believe in you
Even when it is clear you are going to stumble
Even when you have to learn to walk all over again
Knowing there are people who will be beside you
As you relearn to understand yourself
Is beautiful.
It reminds you that humanity
Even through all it's evil properties
Is beautiful.

What does it feel like to recover?*
Liberating
As though the chains and shackles that imprisoned you
For nearly a decade
Over half your life
Have been cut or burned off
And you are dancing in the very place
You used to wish you would die.
It reminds you that the human race is not
The only thing beautiful
But that you are as well.

You know if you asked them "did she have an eating disorder?" No, she's fine.  And yet they spend so much time trying to convince me I am crazy.  I'm either utterly, irreversibly insane or I am absolutely fine and dandy, but it can't be both.  I cannot be both.  I'm sorry that I'm not the perfect little angelic robot who you raised me to be, I'm sorry that I step out of line and speak up for myself and others around me who are scared to, I'm sorry I just don't conform to your high brow society or your selfish mentality.  Am I saying that I do not make mistakes?  Not even almost because sometimes, it seems like I am hardly more competent than an infant who has just emerged from its mother's womb, taken its first breath and tasted this frail air for the first time in its life.  I am hopelessly blind and I **** up nearly all the time.  However, you expect me to be flawless, like snow before it hits the dirt and water as it ebbs and flows effortlessly down its already established path.  If one drop moves out of line, it is not considered pretty anymore, but rather, it is an outlier and an outcast.  I was never pretty to begin with, so why should I pretend to be and conform to something I do not understand?  You cannot tell me I am wrong for this because I love who my convictions make me.  Even if my views are wrong, they seldom waver.  I also seldom wake up thinking "Hey, I am going to make terrible decisions today and ***** up my entire life."  There is usually a reason behind my mess ups and a good deal of pain behind my reasons.  But I have overcome every reason to give up, and I have yet to relapse into that dark synapse that is my past.  In which case, I am freer than the chains that seek to bind me to society's crazy and unattainable expectations of which yours are mirror images.  Therefore, I may not be the perfect person, but at least I am perfectly different from you.

Monsters make their homes inside my head
Picking fights
Waging wars
Protesting with their picket signs
Every time it seems like
Happiness is winning the battle.

They are evil little beings
I like to think of them as puke green
Because they make me want to *****.
The tribe leader's name is Bulimia
Following behind her are
Self harm, Depression and Anxiety

They are fed by their environment
If death abounds, they are triumphant
****** assault sounds the trumpets
And difficult conversations
Cause their grimy little hearts to flutter

It's funny how we grow up being scared of monsters
Little kids think they're under the bed
Or that they're a whole other species
It's a shame that these demons
Are really just a part of us.
So what are we so afraid of?
*Facing ourselves.

I am in a good place
But will it stay for good?
If I can merely get through the winter
I know things will be okay
In the long run.
After all
Cold weather freezes previously broken hearts
Until they crack and like glass
They shatter.
But I will keep hope's beacon
In my peripheral vision
As it is the only thing I continue to hold onto.
Can you hold me through these frigid months?
If you can keep me warm
Then my good place will forever exist
In your arms.

A coping technique
So broad and misunderstood
Is selective memory.
When I see you
I breathe
And try to disconnect myself
From feelings that occur
When I think about what happened.
Then I begin to believe
That none of it is true.
You never assaulted me
We don't have history
I am fine.
My trembling hands become steady
My racing heart softens itself
And becomes a cushion.
I really am okay.
Then, you even have the gaul to talk to me
"Hi Sarah."
All I can do is stutter and spit out is
"Hi."
After all,
I am all smiles from here on out.

"You'll regret it after it happens"
They always say
"Once you break up,
"You'll wish you had waited."*
So why don't I regret a thing?
The loss of such a sensual part of my being
My body's innocence
Shouldn't I be more upset
That I simply gave it to you?
I didn't make you work for it.
Shouldn't it make me go crazy?
Or maybe
I was just that crazy from the start.
Maybe,
I was never really innocent
At all.

I write so much poetry,
That my thoughts begin in stanzas
And end in verses...

Love.
Four letters
A syllable
That can transform a shattered heart
Can soften a warped mind
Can twist and bend separate lives
And mesh them into one.
Lack of love can
Destroy nations and civilizations
Cause a body and soul to frost over
Until the entirety of its spirit
Is left lifeless and icy.
So why is love so often confused with
Insults that are thrown like bad pitches?
Psychological abuse that infiltrates a vulnerable mind
And causes its owner to falter?
Phrases that are tossed around the dinner table like
"You're so annoying"
"You're fat"
"What is wrong with you?"
How can that be love?
How can we teach children that they have to respect their parents
Because they love them?
How can our daughters discern love from abuse in romantic relationships
When they hear this daily from their fathers?
How can our sons know how to treat a woman with dignity
When their dads act this way towards their moms?
And we wonder why the statistics
For violence among relationships
Are the way they are.
We wonder why girls are promiscuous
Well why the hell not?
We wonder why boys do not respect their female counterparts
Well why the hell would they?
Why can't parents just respect and accept their kids
As they supposedly agree to do
From the day they are born?
Maybe then we can teach the latter generation
That love and respect
Go hand in hand.

Some say
The pain I have been subjected to
Can take a toll on a person's psyche.
I say
It just makes for better stories.
And thus is life.

Late night kisses
Sneaking around
Hiding from our parents
Driving lessons
Cheating on each other
Cheating with each other
Heartbreaking
Love making
In the worst places.
How we fought
Getting caught
And having
The toxicity of our romance
Boil over
And reveal itself
To the world we thought we knew.
These are my
Horrible
       Wonderful
Tragic
        Beautiful
Memories
     Of
        You.

Where am I?
I've got on my new dress
I'm choking on stale cigarettes
Doing my makeup in some dude's rear view mirror
Under the visibility that a streetlight has to offer.

Do I know you?
You're some tall, unassuming figure
Who hovers over me
As though I am your prize.
Your gaze captivates me
Like I am something to be treasured.

Are you the same person?
Now, this handsome knight in shining armor
Is nothing but a monster.
"******* *****, *****, *****."
You scream as you shove me out of your way
The first day you hit me with the back of your hand.

What is this place?
I'm searching for courage
At the bottom of a glass
Of some cheap liquor
On the rocks
The bartender becomes my therapist
As words and spit are spewed.

Are you still there?
The dark man from before
Holds me down beneath his fists
As the skin of his hands and that of my face
Become one with the tile floor
Bruises bind me to his will
For he threatens much worse should I run from him

Why did I stay?
They ask
The general public refuses to understand
That defense lawyers use this as a means
Of excusing the accountability of the partner in question

Why do we ask?
After all, this is but another way we as a society
Blame the survivor
And excuse her abuser.

Let's start asking the right questions.

It's funny
how when a person passes
all of there sins are forgiven
and forgotten.
not just by god
but by those who loved them
as well.
you never here
anyone talking about negative memories
they have with this person.
maybe this is one step closer
to becoming the godlike people
that he supposedly intended
for us to become.

This isn't me
Or is it?
Could it be
A newer version
Of me?
I really am
Not its hugest fan.
I miss
The old me
The one who
Was all smiles
All the time.
The girl who could
Cheer anybody up
Even when her own life
Was left in shambles.
That person
Who rarely let
Her personal and professional lives
Intertwine themselves
Within one another.
That lovely almost woman
Who stood for everything
Even when
It was too big for her to
Take on alone.
Where is she?
Where did she go?
She left when you
*Left her.

The worst part
Isn't that you're dying.
It is
The fact that I can't forget it
*It's everywhere I go

I am not a slave to circumstance
A victim of consequence
I am not,
For I have a choice.

Everyday, I decide
Whether to hold on with my death grip
Or to succumb to the mayhem which
My life at one stage depended on.

While I still
Struggle with the urges to
Revert back to old habits
I will not.

While my body
Suffers from tremors of longing
For the self induced *****
That I used to punish myself with
I cannot.

While my mind
Still hurts with the pangs of confusion
As anxiety preys on
My already feeble brain
It would be easier just to cut or purge
I do not.

While I may be
Bent, damaged
And maybe even crazy
I, at this moment, remain
Unbroken.

I just can't handle this
I am a sinking ship
Going down with every hit I give and take.

Who is this person?
Tears flow so freely
I cannot control this emotion
I am in limbo

This constant motion of
Having to be enough
Has suddenly come to an abrupt halt.

With every purge
I lose a little bit more of my control.
With every drag
I lose a little bit more of my sanity.
With every cut
I lose a little bit more of myself.

So who am I?
Who am I?
Who am I?

.   .   .

"I am not
Me"

Where did all the sunshine go?
Did you take it with you
When you went away?
Ironically enough,
We've had the nicest weather
Since you've been gone.

But my head has been filled with clouds
And my heart with thunder.
Raindrops fall from my eyes
Caressing my cheeks romantically.

He has brought the sunshine back
To my body
Little by little
Specks have penetrated through
My empty emotions.

However,
He is unaware of the secret life I lead.
Would he still care
If he knew the abuses I inflict upon myself
From time to time?
He would leave
Just as everyone else thus far has.

My sense of reality has blackened
Death is so sudden
And all I can think of when I start to care
About anyone at all is
"They might not be here tomorrow
So what's the point in getting attached?"
But I also value my life
A little more every day.

Yet still, I am depressed
Not okay, freaked out
All of the above.
Where did all the sunshine go?
Angel, you took it with you
That's why heaven is so bright.

I wish I could forget
All of the lies that strangled me
So tightly that I lost oxygen
And blacked out in your arms.

I wish I could forget
How you held me against you
As if it was an expression of love
When really you were seething with hate.

I wish I could forget
How ******* gushed from your pours
How my blood will always curdle
At the sound of your name
It's like a scream in the darkness
And I cannot bear to listen.

I wish I could forget
The way your fingers traced my narrow frame
I was a child, your porcelain doll
You gently held onto me with care
And that care destroyed me.

I wish I could forget
Your touch
Your hot breath
Breathing down my spine
Warm enough to give me chills
Make my bones rattle
Turn every bit of purity inside of me to darkness.

I wish I could forget
The way you took my innocence and ran
It was never yours for the taking
*Give me my life back.

Did you know
You would be my only
Saving grace?

How am I supposed to let you go?
There's so much I should have said
So much I should have done
Had we remained close
Could I have kept you around?

Had I held your hand through all of this
Had I tried to keep you away
From the things that destroyed you
Had I helped you when I knew
Had I tried to get back in touch
Would things have ended differently?

I hate the possibility that maybe they could have.
I hate feeling that even if it was a tiny , almost invisible
Chance that I could have saved you
That I didn't.

Part of me remembers
That while maybe I should have protected you
I was battling my demons simultaneously.
It kills me that I was able to overcome mine
That I still have the option to fight
And you don't.

Why is saying goodbye
So outside of the realm of human comfort?
Is it even okay to move on?
If I could say one thing to you
I would beg and plead
"Please don't go."

I always wanted to be pretty.
Growing up
When some other little girls wanted to be
Princesses and rock stars and doctors
I just wanted to be something worth looking at.
Maybe its because I was always awkward
And no one ever let me forget it.
My dad would never drop the fact
That I was bigger than the average Jane Doe
And as my sister got older,
She lost a lot of her baby weight
While I just put on more.
Then on TV
I always saw these plus sized girls who were gorgeous
In the ****** region
Even if they had a little extra meat on their bones.
I would analyze myself in the mirror for hours
Wondering why it seemed
I had nothing to offer the world.
Wondering why at the time when my friends were getting boyfriends
Boys were making fun of me.
Wondering why when males would bend over backwards for my peers
They would only be interested in abusing my insecure body.
I never understood
Why I got graced with the "ugly gene."
No one even tried to lie to me
And tell me I was attractive.
So I got to thinking
What else do I have to offer?
And I realized how twisted the world is
Because as a little girl
Since before I can remember
I have been told that how I look
Is more important than who I am.
And how I felt about my physical appearance
Directly influenced how I felt about my internal qualities.
I stopped fearing that I would not look good enough
And started to fear that I was not strong enough to handle
This world and all its messages.
Now, because I have grown
I have nothing to fear
But strength itself.

I want you
Breathing down my neck again
So I can feel the hot daggers
Stab me with every exhalation.

I want you
Running your fingers over me
Like I am your own personal painting
Go on, admire your masterpiece
What you've done to me
I hope it makes you feel secure.

I want you
Watching me get embarrassed again
It turns you on
And it's disgusting.
I am not here for your amusement.

I want you
Hiding who you really are
Lying to everyone around
Playing the victim
Every **** time.
Well, baby
You victimized me.

I want you
To rot in Hell for what you did to me.
I know its wrong
But I can't stop feeling
Like I just wish you were dead.
Because sometime I used to wish I was
But it's not my fault.

I want you
To take it all back
So I never have to remember it
Again.

I wish I knew
The reason you stopped trying
To find any remains
Of the body you left behind
Your beautiful soul still lingers
Could I be the reason?
I should have noticed, right?
I was always there for you
Oh, how I wish you knew
You do not go away
And I miss you day by day.
Six months is a long time
It feels like I got the news yesterday
My mind is jumbled with questions
Like
Why is it always the ones that everybody loves
That have to leave too soon?
I miss you, forever
But somehow
Over this last half a year
I have discovered more about myself
Than I ever could have imagined.
Thank you for giving me that opportunity
Even if it was painful for everyone.
But we all embraced each other's agony
And you taught us that lesson.
I may never stop missing you
But I will also
Never stop thanking you.

Stop trying to make me feel better
With all of the
"I'm sorry for your loss" crap
Maybe you mean it
Maybe you just do not know what else to say
But neither do I.

Is it possible, perhaps
Just not to bring it up
Until I ask?
What if I am not ready to talk?

Anyways, don't be sorry for me.
This is all my fault
That everyone is upset
That my mom is in pain.

I told her things would be just fine
When she was crying on the phone
The night he was admitted

I said
Don't worry,
He's probably just dehydrated.
I'm sure he'll be better in the morning.

I went to bed that night
Truly believing things would be okay.
He was this strong force
This army man
He wasn't allowed to die, right?
That kind of thing doesn't happen that quickly
Does it?

Well, apparently it does
Because he died the next day.
And I am such a ******* liar
For telling her it would be okay.

Stop asking about why
I don't want you to be with him.
No, it's not because I'm bitter
Or because he broke my heart
(Neither of which are the case, by the way)

He assaulted me.
He did not hurt me the way you think he did
Emotionally
He mentally and sexually abused me

No one knows, or ever will.
I refuse to deal with it.
A lot of the time,
It's not even on my mind
Unless I see him face to face
And my body goes into survival mode.

Then there is the question of
Was it assault?
There is too much of a grey area
For me to do anything about it.

I learned from the first time
That the law generally doesn't work in your favor
If you wait this long to bring it up.

Stop telling me I'll be okay.
Stop calling me pessimistic:
Stop saying I brought it upon myself.

Stop judging situations
That you know nothing about.

I am almost twenty-three & her gentle prophecy has yet to come true

My curiosity gets the best of me and I browse through my old musings

I was so...seventeen.

My warped understanding of love with a twenty six year-old man

(predator)

whose sheets I still find myself lost in from time to time.

Fights with my father were mountains

& I was climbing to the apex of his approval,

always just short before backsliding.

Okay, so I guess things haven’t changed that much.

Maybe the five year mark of graduating high school

makes me long to have accomplished something that feels worth this living

I spent so much time hating myself for.

I worry my poems will sound so...22 in five years

marked by smoking too much **** & trying to outdo myself

with tenderness.

Even if I hate my now poems someday,

they serve as prepackaged memories

disguised as metaphors.

As parts of my trying to fall into rain,

unchanged & stop apologizing.

I feel my body’s accomplishments already.

Making it out alive counts.

You told me things would be alright
So why I am still grieving?
Six weeks, no relief
From the pain I try to avoid.
It seems to find me at every corner
Chasing after me
Like a snake in the grass
It constricts my body
Until I can no longer move.
My limbs go limp
And my white knuckles
Fall away like pedals
Of a dead and rotting flower.
I am isolated
From all the old friends
Who thought they knew me
Before I checked out of life as we know it.
I did not want to be a bother
As it seemed I was becoming.
So I crawled back into my old shell
Retreated to my cave
And shut my mouth.
No one wants to talk about it
And I don't want to deal with anything
So does that make me a bad person?
The fact that I will do anything and everyone
Just to repress these feelings?
I don't know.
I just... wish I knew.
Sometime I wonder if anyone can save me
And other times
I don't want a hero.

He watches from a ***** window pane
As his uncle suits up in his cap and gown
It's ironic how different they are.
Daddy was shot when he was young
He really never had anyone
Mama did her best
But sometimes
Best isn't sufficient for a ten year old child.

She is in excruciating pain each day
It's hard for her to get through them
She's got suicide on her mind
As so much death has penetrated her life already
She spews questions at God
"Why are you doing this? Why?"
Her grandmother has passed
And her mom's racking on the years
While she herself may need surgery
How is she supposed to handle it?

I myself am depressed and anxious
Recovering from loss
Wrestling with faith
Falling from grace
And yet
I have boundless opportunities
That they do not.
Sometimes, I feel guilty for this
But others I think
Maybe this is just a reminder
Of how we're not that different after all.
*We're all just human.

I'm tired of losing control
I'm exhausted from spinning my wheels
And always getting stuck in the mud
I'm getting sick from looking at pictures
From reading every email exchange
That I know
Can never happen again.
So why didn't I appreciate them
When they did?
I cannot bring myself to accept that
You are gone.
And I am brought to my knees
With how regretful I am
Of the fact that I never appreciated you
When I had the chance.

You
   fell
      apart

            right
                in
                   front
                  of
                my
         young
   *eyes

When is goodbye
Ever a good thing?
I wish I could be more genuine
As I lay before You
Like broken glass
Shattered about the floor
Wondering have You left me?

I have written You off
Far too many times before
I fluctuate like the wind
In what I believe about all of this.

So can I praise Your great name
In the midst of the storm?
Or will I crumble like the mountains
Beneath my feet?
I know You're there in the shadows
When my hope drifts out to sea
You are with me
Even when I don't believe

How could You leave me
On this island alone?
To fend for myself
I'm only flesh and bones

And then You show me
The power You hold
And I realize how foolish I am
To ever doubt Your love

So can I praise Your great name
In the midst of the storm?
Or will I crumble like the mountains
Beneath my feet?
I know You're there in the shadows
When my hope drifts out to sea
You are with me
Even when I don't believe

I give You an ultimatum
Who am I to do that?
Yet You come through anyway
You see Your child in trouble
And You save the day

So can I praise Your great name
In the midst of the storm?
Or will I crumble like the mountains
Beneath my feet?
I know You're there in the shadows
When my hope drifts out to sea
You are with me
Even when I don't believe

God, You love me
Even when I don't believe

I used to be such a good writer.
When I picked up a pen
The ink would automatically begin to flow.
I could tell a tragedy through words
A love story through spaces
And it all came so naturally.
But recently,
Writer's block
Has been the bane of my existence.

What has become of us
We the people
In the land of boundless opportunity
We fail to help
Those from whom these options
Have been stolen.

We are a nation of sheep
Who push oppression under the rug
Who ignore internal injustice
We put on a prosperous facade
And when people dare to push boundaries
To expose these crises
We do everything we can
To deter them

Just keep quiet
And fit the mold we are designed for
From the time we are infants.
At the very second we take our first breath
Our life is all about us
And we are conditioned to believe
That nothing else matters.

But what about them?
What about the children
Who's innocence has been taken
By adults who should guide them?

What about the people
All around the world
Who are written off immediately
Because of mental illness's talons?

What about the women
Who are denied basic human rights
Who were brutally attacked
And blamed for it
Solely because of the body they were born with?

We cannot leave them
To fight against wolves by themselves
And yet,
Many of us turn the other way
We don't want to hear about it
Much less talk about it

So unless we choose to
Stand up and extend an empathetic hand
This nation of sheep
Will morally crumble.

Why didn't you tell someone sooner?*
They ask
As judgement bleeds from their eyes
And suspicion seeps through their pores.
I shrug
Admit I have absolutely no proof
And continue to look like a fool
To everyone in the room.
A dream sequence this may be
But it's not like it hasn't happened before
And won't happen again.
There's no point in explaining
Reliving that nightmare
Or becoming the victim
When he will get away with it anyway.
I already know how this story ends
And therefore
My lips remain sealed.

I love you
And I hope you've found your
Home.