She laughs too hard 
She laughs too much 
But she's waiting for death 
And lives to die another day 

She believed in faeries 
And rainbows
Glitter made everything glow 
And laughing made everything seem okay

She forgets too less
And pretends too hard 
So she runs as fast as she can 
From the past 

Until her lungs burn 
Then places her hands on her chest
To feel her heart thump
Like the fear of giving up

My wrists still hurt from
the day you grabbed my arm
and my cuts opened up
underneath my sleeve.
I pulled away
but I didn't mention the pain
because how do you tell someone
who has never shed a drop of blood in
their life,
that every part of you is bleeding.

I ran away from you, because you were hurting me. I don't know if you meant to, or if you even knew that you were.

But I was flower gardens and lemonade and you were cigarettes and police cars. You brought out darkness from the depth of my soul.

I was so fragile and gentle, and you knocked me around and bruised my heart. You laughed at my tears

So I needed to leave, and I know there were times when you planted seeds in my garden and encouraged me to grow into tall flowers. But those seeds transformed into weeds and they killed me and I'm sorry

(G.L) // I was always saying sorry

What I found really ironic
Was that my head teacher stood up in front of us and said
“I know what you’re thinking and why you’re thinking it;
Because you’re teenagers and therefore you think you know everything.”

And I wonder if he ‘knows’
That every day I question
The conversations
Between constellations
And the persistence
Of my selfish existence
And I wonder if he ‘knows’
That every day I question
What colours we choose for crying
And what I gain from lying
And the age at which it became OK to play pretend games again
Or whether we even ever gave them up.

And I wonder if he ‘knows’
That what he’s said is ironic
Or if he really thinks he made a good point.

I am the picture stamped firmly to the insides of your eyelids so as you close those intoxicating eyes to kiss her, you'll be tripping with me in the mixture.

we are the shunned.
we live in shadows.
in the dark places.
on the edge of the meadows.

we watch the others.
ones excepted in the world.
the shining ones.
for whom the houses are built.

they dance and prance.
free in society.
they follow the norm.
of the world they are proprietary.

while we are the shunned.
we don't follow the norm.
we are our own people.
we won't follow the swarm.

we have gifts and talents.
that other do fear.
so they cast us out.
make us feel we don't belong here.

but this is our world to.
we may have talents and gifts.
that others don't have.
but still they use the biffs.

and our saddened faces.
are forever permanent.
and our cries float in the night air.
the shunned lament.

i know i was sent away for boy problems
exactly 13,750 kilometres away from all the raw joy pain tears frustration infatuation
those sloppy kisses
you slipped through my lips and whispers of promises
as i cried out in pain when you said everything will be okay
never will i forget
you took the effort to squeeze through the sweaty foggy crowd
heineken in hand
you stuttered as you tried to shout over the vocalist.
dark hair and equally dark eyes.
i should've noticed the telltale
signs
of stay away.
miss you like how a girl addicted to heels would.
getting blisters and before they heal can't wait to get back into them again.
and repeat.
you left the sheet stained.
crimson in red.
you left for the shower
and before long i left for good.