When he ran
it was fire that followed.
An orphan with a family.
Remembering all the wrongs in the world.
These false pretenses
will be the death of him.
Forget what the past says,
and just keep running.
Through fire and wind,
change will occur.
Only when it is least needed.
These lies are eating up the insides.
They are making for a dark future.
Regret.
Regret nothing.
Just look for the wrong answers and
find the truth hidden in
this scorched Earth.
When he ran
it was fire that followed.
It was fire that extinguished
the truth.

Just woke up with sweat
and thoughts a blood dripping
down my face.
A sick grin laid across my face
came as soon as Saturn's rings.
Listen closely, the story I will tell
is quits misleading.
For I would never **** a man...
now would I?

He would break into my home
and **** my Mom and Dad
then go for my brother
and guess who is next:
Me!

He'd come straight on in
and I'd be on my phone
he'd see an opportunity because
guess who's watching ****?

He's take what little clothes I have
and throw them across the bed.
He wouldn't care about my screaming
because there is no one in the room.
He'd whip his **** out and
try and slip it in.
I'd scream and cry and
wonder why
"what the hell did I
do to deserve this?"

He'd try to get my hips to
cooperate as he tries to ride fast.
but what he doesn't know is that
this ***** is on the soccer team and
can surely kick his ***.

Somehow I would be on top now
and have his knife against his throat.
I'd smile sweetly and decide to say,
"I learned this from a show!"
I'd slice his blade across his neck
just hitting his jugular vein
because everyone knows that
once it's done
it can never
be replaced.

(r.a.)

You are getting nosebleeds at all the wrong times
the tears welling up behind your eyes to track down  your
pale, pockmarked cheek
and that bulging in your throat constricting the airflow
let’s you know that fast can be too fast
you thrive with the sunlight
but like flowers standing tall against the oncoming winter
you wilt with day’s last breath
what time did you get home this morning?
hair all matted and stood up
smelling like a sorority party massacre
glitter, wine, tequila, coke, and anonymous ****
take another adderall
******* for the bored children
feel the electrical signals pulse from your brain
to snap your pupils to attention
wash the ***** out of your hair sweet heart
the boys back home never talked to you the way these city boys do
“girl, *****, chick, ****, ***** -”
“oh her? yeah she’s a sure ****
her legs are like seven eleven
they’re not always doing business, but they’re always open…”
So forget the night ever happened
each day brings new opportunities
but they all want you
they all want one thing from you
and you don’t want to say no
don’t want to make them mad,
be a tease, a *****, frigid
and you like the way they make you feel special and beautiful
until the next morning
with the nosebleeds and the dry heaving in strange toilets
and you are waiting for Prince Charming, huh?
as if he will jump out of cheesy romcoms and magazines to hold you steady
well Prince charming is dead weight slowly spinning beneath a frayed, twisted rope
in a dark closet next to the nameless stranger and the noble outlaw
so go ahead and smash those mirrors sweetheart
what’s seven years more bad luck?

Time flies.
Before you know it,
you're not six,
but sixteen
and you can't even remember
what you were feeling
when you rode a bike for the first time.
You can't remember what you felt
when you first accomplished something–something big.
You can't wrap your mind around the fact that you're two years away from
being considered an adult
because you sure don't feel like one.
In fact,
you find it amusing
because you're not even responsible
enough to know what to wear in the mornings.
It's crazy to think that we are just kids
who swear we know the future.
We think our words will take us halfway around the world
but most of us won't even leave this town
and that girl who dreams of the city
will never see New York.
When we were younger,
we thought being teenagers
would be heaven.
We dreamt of makeup
and parties
and sneaking out to kiss the cute boy
across the street
but nobody ever bothered to tell us that
there would be days when we no longer want to live or, rather, days where we
feel so numb we'll do anything to feel something because truth is,
we feel kind of dead inside
and all we want is to feel alive.
and so we swallow pills
and we cut open our skin
in hopes of getting rid of the monsters
inside our heads that follow us every day,
even though everyone told us
they'd be stuck under our beds.
it seems like just yesterday
you were playing with dolls
and now you're writing poems about a boy who won't ever see you
the way you see him.
It's hard for any of us to realize that
in a year we won't remember
this very moment
and you won't remember how fast
your heart beat when he held your hand
for the first time
because in reality,
feelings don't last forever.
Nothing lasts forever.