She's been beaten,
She's been bruised,
Physically and verbally abused,
She felt like nothing,
Every little problem was dealt with,
With a few little cuts,
But her ways have changed,
She no longer resorts to pain,
She no longer has hiding places,
For razorblades.

Those scars.
Those cuts on your wrist.
They show the pain you've felt.
They tell stories of the past.
Of a time not so long ago.
Times of terror and struggle.
Times of great pain.
But for every dark side there is a light.
Those stories of sorrow are rewritten.
With one single kiss of my lips.
For each kiss I rewrite those stories.
The ones of us.
Tales of beauty and passion.
Tales of love and peace.
I'll always be there sitting and cutting my hands on the broken glass of her heart that shatters when she runs that razor on her wrist.
But thats okay.
Because in the end that heart will have my name written across it.
Because Im the one who is there to pick up the pieces.
This is not a poem of sorrow.
Not pain.
Not sadness.
But a poem of promise and love.
A poem to make the pain go away.
Darling I promise, I swear.
Darling, you'll be okay.

Sun shines through the trees, even on my darkest days
You know, those days were nothing seems right,
Those days where you know you're going to cry yourself to sleep that night,
Few moments past when you don't feel like you're nothing to the world.

Even on these dark, thought filled days,
The sun still shines, interferring with my trace of thought,
There is a slight chance, this poem doesnt rhyme,
because I can't exactly think with the sun in my eyes,
And a fly buzzing around in my face,

So if the flow of this is ****** up,
And there are more grammatical errors than normal,
Just ignore, because today, just isn't one of my better days.

Quit rhyming,
not every line has to be in time with the next,
and not everything has to make sense,
poetry is feeling,
creativity,
there are no rules,
no guidelines to such art,
just do whatever may spark creativity,
or even curiosity,
who the **** cares?
just write.

My body is a temple; equipped with
hollow spots in-between each brittle rib.
Say hello to the gaps that were left when you did,
I've dedicated them to your very existence,
growing daisies in the spring time
within them to try and distract myself from
the absence of your fingertips on my skin.
With lips that sometimes take on a shade of periwinkle
when trying to remember what air tastes like,
trying to remember how to breathe evenly
trying to remember how to breathe
I mouth my regret at ever letting you in.
You are the stray hiding under the porch that
I don't have the money to feed, but can't seem to get rid of;
a leech that's come to like the taste of my blood.

I didn't know hurt on a first name basis
until you made me shake his clammy hand,
with eyes like black saucers and a tea kettle to match,
we indulged in scones and questioned anything that
didn't fit into our understanding of fire and brimstone.
Self trained nihilists, life was a game and we didn't
quite understand the point of playing
so we sit with our hands in our laps,
thumbs circling each other like it was some sort of race
and our lips parted ever so slightly,
waiting for the magic to happen.

The thing is, I wasn't trained as a magician.
there is no deck of cards, no magic curtain,
only a girl with lips, hips, fingertips,
all taught to sway in your presence. I don't know if it's magic
but if your breath stops short in your chest I must
be doing something right, right?
A song and dance I know all too well,
the smile, nod, giggle,
twirl your hair between ******* and stand in a way
that accents the attractiveness bred into your hips
by ancestors taught to do the very same.

The most haunting thing in all this,
is that I water the daisies in my chest daily
not because I can't forget, no,
but because I want to remember
want to live the rest of my life setting examples
of everything women shouldn't have to be
shouldn't want to be
shouldn't be bred to please
shouldn't sing crescendos in response to cat calls
and black and blue expectations. If you want perfection buy a barbie,
we are flesh and blood and sweat and tears
not your ******* play thing.

You cannot set fire to our hearts and then expect us
to bat our eyelashes daintily,  
whisper sweet nothings into the neck that creaks with contradiction.
Our love is not a force to be reckoned with
remember, sweet child, from whence you came
a woman herself carried you for nine back breaking months
to bring you into this world
a woman can just as easily take you out of it, maybe even easier.
Not many would open their mouths to relay this message
I suppose maybe I am a blip in the fabric of ancestry.
Somewhere in the makeup of my DNA, I gained a voice
and I fully intend to use it against idiocy.
Today I am throwing out my gardening tools,
these daisies in my rib cage no longer need tending
I have finally learned to know my worth without attaching
someone else's name to it.
Maybe it's time for you to do the same.

Staring at the clock,
Waiting for you,
Missing you,
Is like a disease,
With no cure,
It slowly kills me

Your warm embrace,
Always,
Puts a smile on my face,
And when times are tough,
I always know,
Your here, waiting,
For me to collapse
Into your stong arms
**** everyone
Seperating me
From you,
Reflecting on that,
You have to know,
That when you die,
I'll want to die too.

Energy darts through my body like bullets,
making me antsy, to say the least,
oh, why do I have to feel this way,
why can't I just feel good for a day,

Get rid of the constant shakes,
the tapping on the table that annoys everyone around me,
I tell them I can't help it, and they think I'm crazy,
they just don't ******* understand me,

My nerves are shot, and dead and gone,
I knew I was crazy all along,
this isn't an issue I can fix,
I just have to go on, with these problems,
for I can't do a **** thing about this ****,

It's simply the way I am,
whether you like it or ******* not,
my nerves, *are shot.

Tears are blinding as the page is filled,
with words written, full of meaning,
all in pursuit of wishing you well.
Our paths are distraught,
jutting in different directions,
disrupted by poor choices,
and fitting consequences.

No matter how fitting,
nothing has ever hurt more,
to know you'll be gone kills me.
With the exception of possible visits,
It's possible I'll be nearly 17 by the time
of your reentrance into this crazy,
ever-changing life.

A life where my only correspondence now
with the woman called mother,
is through letters tearstained.
I send them anyway,
knowing they'll be written
without the presence of moisture,
in the corners of my eyes.

I am not so much afraid of falling
as I am afraid of the sound my bones
would make against unforgiving pavement,
if you were to neglect to open your arms.
I apologize if I don't immediately
trust your charming smile, but in past
experience, behind a charming smile
lies an appreciation for liquor bottles
and the art of a good disappearing act.

If I seem wary of your good intentions
know it is only because I have experienced
abuse and neglect, and it isn't quite as easy
to get over as the self-help books say it is.
Because of this, sometimes I am distant.
Sometimes I create a spiny shell around
myself to keep from experiencing more of
what i have previously had to run away from.
or even suffer the loss of.

Sometimes I put more thought into my writing
than I do into my relationships because
after a countless streak of falters,
you begin to think that is all there is to expect.
I am sorry that I am damaged, and I
am also sorry that I would never expect
anyone to have the power to fix it.
As time has passed and I have been wrecked,
I lost the expectancy to be put back together again.

Though I hate to be alone, I will probably
push you away, trade you for the solitude of my
tiny bedroom. After being left time and time again,
I have been forced to leave, myself because
I would rather experience loneliness than heartbreak.
Funny thing is, I'm learning they are close to the same.

Tying strings to all my fingers,
Trying to remember to forget,
All the haunting memories,
All the tears I ever shed,

Trying to remember to think of what lies ahead,
And forget my sadfilled past,
Think of the present and live for the now,
Knowing I now have purpose in this world again,

Whenever I'm upset,
I can let the music play,
Let myself finally forget,
And remove the strings from my fingers,
For they have started to decay.

Make-up hides all,
Under the coverup your,
One big bruise,
Why
Would you let someone,
Do this to you?
Better yet,
Who would do this to you?
Him...
He would,
Because he's reckless,
And he doesn't care.
He abuses,
The weak,
But you are strong,
Put him in his place,
Put him where he belongs
Because deep inside,
He knows he is wrong.

I yearn,
To feel the blade against my skin.
I need that metallic feel,
But I know I mustn't give in.
Because after all I've fought for,
It just wouldn't be worth it.

I wish,
I could just give it one more go.
Draw one more dark red line,
On the canvas that is my pale wrist.
But I won't succumb to temptation,
Because its gotten me nowhere in the past,
And it's also part of my current problem.
Plus, short term relief is a one way train to addiction.
And I don't need that.

Desires aren't always healthy,
That lessons been learned and reviewed.
Why on earth would I want to forget?

Color me a pretty shade,
of blood and gore,
come on and scare me,
until I can take no more,

Shake me up and rattle me hard,
make the air leave my lungs,
let me see the way you do,
out of your eyes come bugs,

In this place of fright,
come one, come all,
and stay a night,
for everyone who enters,
will have the time of their lives,

Do you think you can handle it?
or is it too much to bear?
come on don't chicken out,
everyone needs a good scare.

I wonder,
If you're still drowning your blood
In alcohol.

Relationships are meant for two,
But there's me.
And then there's you.
And then theres that raging blue ocean that killed us.

No. I killed us.
I plunged a knife through your newly mended heart.

I always knew I'd be the one to hurt you.
No. Not because of the distance.
Because I love you. And love hurts.
Strange analogy I know,
But it makes sense in my head.

****. No it doesn't.
I'm horrible.
I lied to you and now,
I'm sitting here lying to myself.
I knew I wasn't good for you,
Even though you were more than good for me.

I still say you were the one who taught me how to live again,
How to love again,
How to realize that there is good,
Somewhere in this ****** up world,
And that if I look hard enough,
I'll realize it was staring at me, straight faced, the whole ******* time.

But I gave it up.
Because I thought I could get something better.

Hell. Not better.
Closer.
What is the definition of better,
When you were the best I ever had?
I gave up my everything, for a single sensation.
A stupid temptation,
Created by drugs, and feelings.
But I swear it was something real,
Or.. Was it?

God ******.
To whoever's reading this. I'm sorry.
I know this must make no sense.
And if that's what you're thinking,
You're right. It doesn't. Not even to me.
All I know, is I'm severely confused,
And openly bleeding.

I do know one thing.
One thing that stands clear in my mind.
I love you. And despite what I told you,
I don't think I ever stopped.
I love you so much it's killing me to say otherwise.

But there's a second element in the mix,
And you know exactly what(who) it is.
I'm really sorry. But that's something I won't lie about.
I won't deny having the slightest bit of feelings for him.
Because I've done you enough wrong.
And I won't let you live on thinking that  everything is resolved.

Because its not.
There's still a mess in my head.
Next to the one that was already existent.
This ones freshly formed, and still growing.
**** like this is just flooding my mind.
No wonder I'm half past crazy,
And the meter is still climbing.

But back to the point.
I'm sorry.

I can't tell you I have all this figured out.
And I can't tell you I will anytime soon,
But I know one thing.
I really do still love you.
And despite all of this,
I'm really glad you love me too.

I'm runnin' round in circles, and I,
can't control my feet,
Yes, runnin' round in circles,
looking for something, never to be found,

Confused to the point of comatose,
my mind will soon shut down,
I'm just so sick and tired,
of runnin' around,
looking for somethin'
thats probably never to be found,

Feet hurt,
mind swells,
and I think its time to slow down,
for whats the point of running,
if you're running into the ground

Sad filled days
And sleepless nights,
Please don't haunt my dreams
Tonight
You killed me once
You killed me twice
And here I lay,
Shaking in fright,
Afraid you might
Come back tonight

Sitting here,
Cryin,
Thinking about,
What kind of a god would do this to you
What did you do,
To deserve this,
Your hospitalized,
Immobilized,
And for a while,
You couldn't even speak,
So I'm sitting here cryin,
Asking god why,
You got the hand you were dealt,
And if he could take it all back again,
I'm just sitting here cryin,
Wonderin why

After a day of questioning what had went on that night,
Here I stand,
Looking down a long winding road,
The road known as denial,

Remembering the slurred words,
As I threw another shot back,
Remembering the pain as it went down my throat,
Cutting at reality like a dull blade,
Slicing its way into my mind,
Killing what was left of my control,

The night I'm glad I forgot,
But they'll make me remember,
When they know i'm fine with forgeting,
Because somethings, are better left forgotten,
Than to trudge around, in the murky water that was called past,

This is the present and I live for the future,
No looking back on the mistakes I've made,
They do not define me as a person,
So lets forget the night on the beach,
*act as if it never happened