if there's 7 billion candles and one burns out, will get much darker?
why
should
it
make
a
difference
when my light burns out?

am i still human without my humanity?

i died a long time ago,
but i'm still here.

my body is here,
but without a soul.

i do not write to impress,
i write express me.

if you do not like it,
could you please leave.

i would give all i own,
everything i will own,

to feel pain again,

because i don't feel anything.

I understand pain is horrible
but how can it be more terrible

than this infinite silence that lives inside of me?

as a child i used to have to bright, succulent, emerald eyes.
behind the lids of my eyes there was an over powering light that never blew out.

now as a just-turned-teen, i have dull, grey, eyes that lost their sparkle.
now, behind my eyes lids is something worse then pandora box's contents.

then there was the light i owned.

it's is dull and black and i wouldn't call a light anymore, it was more of a

bright darkness.

you popped my bubble gum heart,
with five simple words.

"i don't love you anymore."

now all that remained,
what i've left unsaid,

"but i still love you."
is what i feel for you.

like chewed up gum,
worn-out and colourless,
is how i feel without you.

you shot in the heart
with four simple words,

"i don't love you"

you tried fix it with a "sorry"

but that was like putting a band-aid over a bullet wound.

can you hear my screaming silence
from where you're sitting?

can you hear my bleeding depression that seldom
slips out of my pale moon lips?

can you see my suffocating pain thats written in my eyes? its in fine print, but it is there.


can you see me? i am dying.

yes i am young,
i am a child,
i have yet to experience the world.

maybe i don't know what love is quite yet.

but i do know what i feel
or felt
for someone i held dearly.

i may be an adolescent, but when i first turned 13

i knew i have experienced love.
not true love, but love,

do not tell me how i feel and how i don't
or how i should or how i shouldn't.

i met someone i loved at a juvenile age.

yes i am young
i am a child,
i have yet to experience the world.

maybe i don't know what love is quite yet.

but i know how i feel.

depression is like being colourblind.
expect your colourblind to happiness.

you know it exists and you know its there.

and you want to see it.

but you see you see the world in the lens of depression.

i am i crazy out mind
because of this situation i'm in?

i feel like the walls are closing in on me,
i needed closure but not this type of it.

i can't breathe,
i can't breathe,

i'm drowning in thin clear air,
i'm panicking heavily.

hitched breathe,
shaking hands,
sweating palms,
blurred vision.

i'm screaming
i'm screaming
i'm screaming
i'm screaming.


what is?
have i lost my sanity?
am i going insane?

am i crazy out mind
because of the situation i'm in?

i am trying to cut myself out of this body.

when its at the end of your road, where do you hide?
where do you seek?

whats the point if your at a dead end?
its a long painful road.
like walking on hot charcoal without shoes.

whats the point in this?
i don't know the right road.

this is the only pathway i've known.

when did my safety,
become victimized by a gun?

what made you want to s
                                             h
                                               o
                                                 o
                                                   t   a gun at our future?
what made you want to h
                                          u
                   ­                      r
                                       t  us?


when did my safety become the 2nd priority?

i'm lost in an ocean,
sinking in quick sand thats not so quick.

slowly i'm sinking deeper and deeper each day.
and you're just watching from the side lines.
you wont throw me a rope
or help me.

you just silently watch me.

when i finally drown you say you didn't see the signs.

but darling.

you drowned me.

feelings often get in the way.

she was like the moon.

a bright light with imperfections
but,
like the moon she had a dark side.
it was darker then black.

it was cold.
no one liked it there so they'd only stay when it was sunny.

she didn't want to be the moon,
the girl wanted to be the sun.

everyone loved the sun, bright, happy and vibrent.

she would give anything to the sun.
but,

she was like the moon.

coffee at 4,
with basketball boy.

"my treat"
god you're adorable.

his white smile was pure and innocent,
and his tongue did not hold back any lies.

his giggle,
his smile,
his hugs,
his everything,

is amazing.

he is perfectly imperfect.

when he asked he out to the coffee shop,
i caught first date chills.

friends are like hair,


if you don't maintain it,


it splits-

sometimes i scare myself so bad,

i want to runaway from my own mind.

do you hear the happiness?
our hearts fuelled on our smiles.
our ***** converse on our feet all jumping up and down
to the same upbeat music.
do you hear us? we're happy today.

happy valentines day,

to all the amazing poets x

loving you feels so good,

but hurts so bad.

my illness is something that is apart of me.
it is solely not me.

it is not the only thing i focus on.

whenever i tell someone i suffer from a mental illness, they have more questions then i can count. also including some accusations and negative comments.

but if i tell them about me, they reply with a "cool" or a "nice." and don't seem interested at all.

everyone seems more interested in MY mental illness, not ME.

i am not my illness.

i don't say "hi, i'm depression"

no.

i do say "hi, i'm laura"

yes i have an illness, it is a part of me.

but not me

how adults deal with their problems?

do they cry in their beds so their children wont hear?
do they drink away their problems every night?

do you pay for alcohol with your maxed out credit card?
do you work and work until your mind wanders to stress instead of sadness?

do you drink tea in your bathtub with the temperature just under boil?
do you put on a fake smile everyday?

do you ignore your problems or do you run away from them?




how do i handle my mind in 10 years when i'm an adult?

i do not write poetry.
i do not write poetry, my soul touches the blank paper and blurts out some truth.

i am not a poet, i do not write poetry.
i am not a poet. my heart spills the ink onto the page and lets me take credit. i do not write poetry, my soul touches the blank paper and blurts out some truth.

i am not original, i am not a poet, i do not write poetry.
i am not original. i copy a poem that my mind already wrote and then i plagiarize it. i am not a poet. my heart spills the ink onto the page and lets me take credit. i do not write poetry, my soul touches the blank paper and blurts out some truth.

i am not original, i am not a poet, i do not write poetry.

i loved him so much,
that i let him crush

my heart

over and
over and
over again.

until there was only nothing left.

but what do you have he even
crushes your

nothing?

we don't have to be insane to be insanely in

L
O
V
E

"you know smoking kills?"
"drugs do bad things to you"
"alcohol makes you crazy"



sounds like love to me.

hugs and kisses up until now.

a whole new world has peeled before my eyes.

flirty actions and make-out sessions has been forced upon us

alcohol and boys make a great party.

drama and girls happens everyday.

teenage life, what a blast.

R.I.P to my blissful youth.

don't tell me you love me.

don't tell me you loved me if you broke me.

don't tell me you love me if you manipulated me.

don't tell me you love me if you wanted her body.

don't tell me you love me if you left me.

don't tell me you love me,

because you're lying.

boys like girls

girls like boys

boys like boys

girls like girls

it has been a year.
but on those nights where i can’t sleep,

at 1am, i remember the times we laughed and loved, lusted and joked.

at 2am, you still stroll around my thoughts, having me think of what could have been.
what hasn’t been.
what would have been.

at 3am, i have an instant replay of the time you shot my heart with a gun called “words” and tried to repair it with a bandaid named “sorry” .

at 4am, i wish to be asleep before i restart my cycle and listen to my heart shatter into a million again.

my brain is working overtime

until it eventually

breaks

when you're already dead inside,
there is nothing left to live for.

confusion is my main thought.

why did you do this to me?
why me?

my stomach keeps twisting and turning at the
thought of what you do.

you are disgusting.

i want to scream and cry,
but i just remember you.

calling me beautiful and such.

you are sick.

why me?
why me?
why me?


why would you, how could you?

i haven't met you,
i haven't spoken a word to you,

and yet you leave me here numb.

feeling left without pureness,
left feeling unholy.


am i an object?

am i an object you can objectify?