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Jun 18 · 785
Crescent Moon Necklace
i love the moon
wrapped around my neck
the small crescent moon bouncing happily on my heart
as we hold hands

that same beautiful moon
in which i trace with my fingers
feeling the smooth moonstone
be imprinted with my fingerprints

that same affectionate moon
as it glided on your chest when we gasped for more air
and you held me close to your heart
as the moonlight shined softly from the window

that same wonderstruck moon
we would fight under
tears that reflected the moonstone
always streaming down my face

that same gleaming moon
that you would wipe my tears
with the hands i had felt for years
and all i could do was look up and dream of

that same distant moon
where i had found out about your disloyalty
and i felt myself slipping into vast space
putting myself in front of asteroids just to feel something

that same sickening moon
taunting me with the way it just
stays up there, coming out only at night
only to observe and listen for chaos that reigns after dark

that same wicked moon
that was suffocating me in my sleep
when i would lie next to your empty shell
gasping for air as i wipe my moonstone tears

that same dreadful moon
as it watched me deteriorate in your arms
burning holes into my chest
dwindling my soul until it left me hollow

i... used to love the moon
when i knew that it was lovingly
wrapped around my neck by you
and you would feel the moonstone with your lips

i used to love the moon
until the last star died
and i ripped it off from my neck
and drove myself into a black hole

that same cynical moon
that you proclaimed your love to me too,
was the same ******* moon
that my entire being was shattered by you

...

i ******* hate the moon.
i miss what we used to be.
I can’t stand looking in the mirror.
Just wanting to slice away the imperfections.
Want to rip my veins to never feel again.
To succumb to the nothingness that I am.
Be something for someone in the afterlife.
Enough leftover pain to make them cry.
For being the spitting image of what I lack.
You should know, scrolling through your phone, seeing the prettiest beings with their legs spread wide open and fingers in their mouth drooling for your eyes to see them.

and I just think:
****, I just want to be enough for you.
i just want to be enough for you.
Dec 2018 · 328
Conform & Comfort
Fritzi Melendez Dec 2018
leave me in my chaos, won't you?

these cries for help are just empty echoes, isn't it?

ignore my tears as they fall, would you?

leave me alone when my body collapses onto the pavement.

isn't this what you wanted?

the sight of my bleeding knees fills you with joy, doesn't it?

and when i cry, you blame it on the chemical imbalance in my brain, isn't that right?

i only ask for you to kneel beside me
maybe even put a band-aid on or two,

so maybe i would stop bleeding and crying for you.

so maybe i could just breathe,
and walk straight for just a few seconds.

so maybe the taste of your lips
can make me forget the taste of my blood.

But telling you that is too much for you, isn't it?
we are one, and then we are two.
Sep 2018 · 246
Unbearable Heartaches
Fritzi Melendez Sep 2018
and so i sit here in tears
clutching onto my phone
constantly going back and forth between apps
seeing how you are silent with me
but alive to everyone else.
and im left here to wonder
if me trying to do the simplest things to show i love you
is even enough to let me see your heart
but only these **** tears
that must have already turned my body
into a raging ocean
washes away the bitterness that i gain
and i force myself to smile
to say im sorry
to be the one to message you first
and try to have conversations
to be the only one feeling horrible
about speaking my feelings
just to prevent your tears
to contaminate my overflowing water

my heart ******* hurts.
but you ignore that, just like the messages.
i just want to love you. why do you have to treat me this way?
Sep 2018 · 300
Popping Cherry Bombs
Fritzi Melendez Sep 2018
losing your heart
to someone else

is like losing your virginity
once you do it
you can't go back

you'll never be the same.

so why is it that
when i fell in love
with a pixel screen
abandoned in
the other side of the world

did i not feel pain?
why did it feel
as if nothing happened
that we did not
kiss
or say i love you
or make love
late into the night

why does it all just feel like
these memories were set in some kind of
parallel universe?

that begs the question...
did i really love you?
or did i just fall out of
this lonesome feeling?
im sorry.
Aug 2018 · 341
Sadistic Sleeper
Fritzi Melendez Aug 2018
Sickly
And
Dizzy

Thats
How
Anyone
Tells
Sees

Hear
Only if these
Wielding clocks could stop

I

Lied
I
Killed myself years ago
Evening filled of sorrow

I couldn’t
Take it anymore

Now I can
Only open my eyelids
When my

Grave is found
Or when

The tears wash away yesterday
Of when I

Slit my throat
Like if I was just snipping paper
Effectively cutting my artery
Eventually falling to a
Paralyzing feeling, lead into dark

I

A
M
thats how i like it
Aug 2018 · 325
Red Pain
Fritzi Melendez Aug 2018
i wish you coul(d) gauge my eyes (o)ut
and peek ins(i)de the hollow walls
dripping with red pain(t)
please look closer
Jul 2018 · 501
Sweet Silence
Fritzi Melendez Jul 2018
shush
just for
a moment.

breathe
in the
oxygen.

do you
feel it?
filling up
your lungs?

do you
feel my
presence
as my
chest moves
rhythmically
with yours?

do you
feel your
heart beat
like crazy
when I
make love
to you?

do you
feel the
warmness
of the bed
as we
intertwine hands?

would it
make you
feel better
if I
stayed here
forever?

would you
hold me
tightly as
our souls
become one?

do you
hear the
breeze
coming from
the opened
window?

it sounds
peaceful
doesn't it?
just being
alive?

just
breathing
the same
air?

tasting sweet
strawberry lips

being rebellious
on touching
works of
art, staining
canvases with
finger prints.

feeling our
pulsating hearts
run our
blood through
our veins.

wrapping my
arms around
you, hoping
I can
freeze time
forever.

your sweet
smell that
sweeps my
feet over,
intoxicating
me with
this linger
and memory
of this
peaceful day.

no,
don't say
anything.

let our
minds communicate
let us
drown in
each other
let us
love
let us
be tranquil
let us
kiss
let us
breathe.

just for
a moment
before the
commotions
of the
world resumes.
sweet silence grows.
Jul 2018 · 817
Linger
Fritzi Melendez Jul 2018
depression lingers
like your cologne on my clothes

depression lingers
like mosquitoes in lamps

depression lingers
like tears that stain your pillow

depression lingers
like a traumatic memory

depression lingers
like the weight of you on me

depression lingers
like my lipstick on your cigarette

depression lingers
like a drug addict's binge

depression lingers
like the scars on my skin

depression lingers
like red paint on broken mirrors

depression lingers
and it never goes away
it never stops
there is no end

i wish friendship would linger longer,
maybe then

depression would stop ringing my door bell at 3AM.
been in a bad state of depression again.
Jul 2018 · 359
Hell Above
Fritzi Melendez Jul 2018
end this unnecessary bickering
why does it have to be this way
i toss you a ******* bone
in return, ****** stones are thrown
bruising me
hurting me
torturing me
pummeling me deeper
in this god forsaken soil
where hell lives just underneath
waiting to embrace me.
...
but you don't see that, do you?
I'm dwindling to raise you up, but you say thank you by stepping on me.
Jul 2018 · 877
Stolen Cigarettes
Fritzi Melendez Jul 2018
i stole a cigarette.
no, this isn't a metaphor.

there's just times where I feel
like I deserve to be what falls in the ash tray.

I don't know why I keep trying to harm myself,
If things are going okay...

It's like, I'm so used to the torture and pain,
I don't ever want it to go away.

No wonder I had clung to my razor blades
No wonder I had clung to the trauma
No wonder I developed depression
and look at me now, stealing cigarettes.

Desperately trying to find a way to destroy myself
Fill my lungs with smoke
A stench that is more than just stuck on clothes.

It's the past, coming back to life
inhale
inhale
inhale more
cough

You want to smother these thoughts
Lose them in this smoke and fog

But no, there's no escape
Not even when the cigarette is done

The scars still string your skin
The pain woven deep into your veins
The ****** scabs you keep picking at

It's a coping mechanism
Or a way to slowly die

Is it that... I need to feel something, always?
Is it that... I have fallen in love with Death?

The couple of times, where he teasingly came
close to...
give me a fatal kiss.

Is this what I lust over?
Is this... what I want to feel?
...

In any case... this cigarette is still lit up.
Drifting me more out of myself.

And I disappear like the smoke in the wind.
I stole a cigarette.
Fritzi Melendez Jul 2018
I have so much to say
but nothing comes out
my heart breaks
when people make
it seem like happiness is a facade
undeserving, unwilling, and it's all my fault...
right? because I'm causing the pain,
the tears on your face, it's always the same
I can't win this fight, can I?
I can never fall in love, so I
don't know what to do
and it hurts so much more than you
think
it's not just dark when I blink
anymore, I think I reached the brink
of what is sane and what is taboo

maybe, I just want something... new
someone... new
someone who won't make me cry
someone who won't say goodbye
when things begin to collide
and people look away to the side
when I'm finally gaining my strength and peace
I am no one's property, no one to keep
me from living the life that I deserve
because I have always been so reserved
and maybe it's time that I stand up
and say that enough is enough.

yes, I am in love with someone new.
someone who loves me as their muse
I don't want
to keep
having this
fight
over what is
wrong and
what is
right

I am in control.
it's time I free my soul
from the grasps of those who believe they could chain me
to the ground
no, not until my old past self is found.
never again, I'll fight for true love.
Instead of a love that seems to shove
me into guilt and sadness,
imprisoned in loneliness
while you are free to do whatever you want
as I stand in the blackness

No, I will not stand this sickening torment
these conflicts, or as you say is heartfelt comments
If I want to save my heart
I have to tear apart
reality from fantasy
it isn't easy
but...
maybe then, I will be free
to breathe, love, and kiss who I please.
I don't need to commit right now.
I just want to get through this life somehow.
you're a hypocrite when you state you want me to be happy.
Jul 2018 · 569
Bruised Wrists
Fritzi Melendez Jul 2018
please stop
messaging me every hour

let me breathe
let go of my wrists

they're bleeding
i'm crying

you grab me
forcefully

                                           "just a little."

no
"come on."                                        
no

stop
go
away

"n­o."
...
Jul 2018 · 848
Lonesome
Fritzi Melendez Jul 2018
bright lights begin to flicker
to a vast of darkness

as i lay in my bed
staring at the ceiling

recounting, remembering
pain, tragedy, depression.

i turn to my side,
where it is most comfortable.

imagining, a world unbeknownst to anyone else
where bright lights stay bright,

radiating, pulsating
from my true love’s heartbeat.

as my eyes are closed
i reach out to touch a face

only to be met by the fabric of my pillow
by this time, the lights have gone completely off.

i am alone.

“I am here.”

what? i sit up and look behind me.
my alter ego, staring back with hollowed out eyes
a mouth slit on both sides
tears of blood.
crying for someone to hug Her.

but it’s only met with my pain-filled echo.
“i am you.”
night time loneliness
Jul 2018 · 421
Reverberate
Fritzi Melendez Jul 2018
the sound of faulty cogs scraping against each other
as if something got jammed
or broken
would i have to throw it away all together?
i can't be bothered to fix it.
i don't know how.

electric wires become entwined between these rustic cogs
ripping apart, causing an ignition of a spark.
a spark of...
fear.
i could attempt to repair the wires,
but it's too late.
it's already touching the water.
the water of my tears.

mass chaos reigns, and i,
stupid me, stand there in the middle.
closing my eyes, covering my ears, breathing from my mouth.
thinking of better times.
as these cogs begin to break
as these electric wires begin to make
sparks into fires
i hear a sound
reverberate
from afar.

"you are chaotic. you destroyed yourself."

the screeching noises of the cogs become unbearable
the electric wires have tangled around my neck
my tears streaming down my cheeks trigger a spark

a spark of...
guilt.

i go limp, as i begin to catch on fire.
no screaming, i deserve this pain.

"you deserve all the worst things life will bring unto you."

and i open my eyes,
and see my reflection in the mirror.
self-hatred.
Jun 2018 · 391
When Pixels Collide
Fritzi Melendez Jun 2018
keyboard clatters almost makes the same noise when the butterflies in my stomach flutter.

Hues of red, green, and blue.
I want to give all my love to you.

The warmth of the monitor after many hours of usage,
Almost feels like a warm hug after a beautiful date and an “I love you” message.

I told myself I wouldn’t fall for someone online again.
But for you, my love, I don’t mind going through hell and pay for my sins.

The start up of my laptop when it does the whir sound,
Feels like the excitement that rushes through me when you are around.

The pixels and glass screen can only do so much for us.
I long for the touch of your beautiful stardust.

I fell in love with someone I met online.
I truly believe he can possibly be forever mine.
for A.
May 2018 · 353
Fangs & Apple Seeds
Fritzi Melendez May 2018
Everything feels so out of reach right now.
I feel the pain from the snake sinking its fangs to my skin.
Puncturing and filling me with its poison.
It doesn't release enough to **** me, though it still leaves me paralyzed.
And some times I have to force myself to not taunt them.
They will know my motives and slither away until I'm better again.
Then the fangs will bite down on me as if they were eating a delicious apple.
and evening will come to fall for the sadistic trickery.
Thus leading to the eradication in which I had made my world to be.

I am powerless.
It hurts when you are blamed for something you have no control or didn't have a choice in.
May 2018 · 370
Boundaries
Fritzi Melendez May 2018
Please stop making it seem
Like I am incapable of pulling apart seams.
Strewn with strings of red stinging lies.
Ashes of bridges that I had to say goodbye.

Stop pretending that you'll be forever mine.
I'm still scared by last year's trauma that left me blind.
Stop trying to get close as I'm shoving you out the door.
I don't need you to come in, not while my heart is melting through the floor.

Just stop acting like I did a couple years ago.
You're going to get your heart quickly smashed, don't you know?
I speak from experience, so please stop holding on tight.
I might just turn into that April's night.

And you will regret it.
And I don't want to be responsible for a soul waiting to be ended.
I can be okay on my own.
May 2018 · 1.2k
Paper Cuts
Fritzi Melendez May 2018
Accidental paper cuts is where it starts.
You swiftly open your pink diary to write about the boy you fell in love with at recess.
It stings. Blood slowly drips. It stings. It’s so sudden and unwarranted.
You **** the blood and put a bandage on your finger and you write about your elementary school lover.

Drawn hearts around their names, or putting your first name in front of their last, it’s all your secrets.

They will never know.


You grow fast into middle school, where you encounter your first real heartbreak.
You once again swiftly open your pink diary out of heart broken tears falling from your eyes.
It stings. Blood slowly drips. It stings. It’s so sudden and unwarranted.
You **** the blood from your finger and put a bandage over your heart.

Scribble out the hearts, rip out his last name, cry silently into your pillow so no one can hear. Put on a mask in the morning until you are better. It’s all your secrets.

They will never know.


Fast forward to high school. Everyone is divided and different. People you once knew are once again memories. Lonesome days roaming hall ways. You tell yourself you’re used to it, but your mind thinks otherwise.
Once again, you swiftly open your pink diary to write about your boring day.
It stings. Blood slowly drips. It stings. It’s so sudden and unwarranted.
You **** the blood and put...
and p-...
and...
...
Put a razor against your skin.

Swiftly gliding it from left to right.
It stings. Blood slowly drips. It stings. It’s...

Amazing and exhilarating.

More. More. More.

Watch as I tear my arms into woven red spiderwebs.
Watch as I unravel this old bandage on my heart.
Watch as I show my vulnerability for just a moment.
I cant stop. I cant st op. The bleeding is n t stop ping.
I  c a n ' t  s t o-...
You put the razor down and look at the drips. you wash it off, throw away the bandages, put a sweater on and fall asleep. It's all your secrets.

They will never know.

It becomes a routine. Your pink diary begins to turn gray from dust. It doesn't help anymore. They put you on medications and therapy appointments, but you only get satisfaction opening your paper thin skin and watch as the lines well into pools of blood.

Drip.              
                 Drip.
   Drip.    

The sting in your arms is the only thing you can feel now. No one sees, it's all your secrets.

They will never know.

Never know...
What it's like to have this destructive addiction.
You see, I lied.
I knew the difference between paper cuts and razor blades when I was still learning long division.
It stopped being accidental after the first paper cut.
It began to be about glass shards on pale scrawny arms.
It began to be about long sleeves and pants instead of dresses.
It began to be about making excuses after excuses.

It's all my secrets.
They will never know.

... Never know until I cut one too many times.
Never know until my sleeves slide down my arms.
Never know until I puncture a vein.
Never know until I'm clinging onto lifeless pain.

It was all my secrets.
But eventually they knew.

They knew when pill bottles began to quickly empty.
They knew sweater weather was 6 months ago.
They knew the light in my eyes began to dim.
They knew I was suffering.

But I pushed them out.
Slammed the door and pulled down the sleeves.
Put on smiles and laugh like they do on TV.

Like an innocent child hiding paper cuts under bandages.
Growing into a ******* who finds solace in a razor.
Laughing at each tear that falls from my mother's face.
Door slams that just echo in my chest.
Digging more into my skin so I can just be put to rest.
This sweet, silent suffering is covered by a facade made of smiles.
But I still wince once in awhile.
It's just the cuts that rub against my inner side of my sleeves.

Reminding me of my dark thoughts.
Reminding myself of my weaknesses.
Reminding me of feeling something other than this numb orb,
that gnaws into every cell, ever nerve.
Up and down my arm until I feel the stinging static feeling.

Then I know it's time,
to start once again.
...
and...
It was all my secrets.
They weren't supposed to know.
I recently relapsed because I wanted to feel something. Can't say I regretted it.
May 2018 · 322
Pill Bottles
Fritzi Melendez May 2018
I feel like the laughs and smiles rattle in my chest like my anti-depressants when I shake the bottle.

It feels so hollow and dark until I light up momentarily, and then it dies again.

The smiles and laughs are like bugs in a jar, you shake them and they move, but leaving them in too long kills them off.

I just can't understand why I cry feeling this pain but then inflict it upon myself when I can't feel anything at all.

I can't help but think how ****** up I am, taking pills, talking about my problems, slicing my arms until they drip with blood.

It's impossible for me to be happy when this hollow feeling lingers with my emotions as its prisoner.

Shaking itself, rattling them up to taunt them until they cry out.

I can't live in this false hope anymore.

There is no help for me, no happiness for me here.

They're just echoes that bounce off the walls in my chest.

No one can hear the loud pain beneath this numb body.

It's like screaming for help underneath water.

and happiness is the one keeping me under. It's

Pointless

Lies,

Egocentric

Abuse,

Silence

Eerie filled rooms full of avengeful ghosts. I can't help but feel,

Hateful

Erratic

Lament

Perplexed by these feelings that rattle in my ribcage.

Maybe this life isn't for me
Eternal emptiness that can not be fulfilled.
I can't feel anything.
Mar 2018 · 431
Game Over
Fritzi Melendez Mar 2018
I want to scream until I convulse into a ****** rage of anger.
I can't believe what these figures tell me.
They shrug me off like an old rancid carpet of emotions.
They don't want my problems, but God forbid I ignore theirs and suddenly I'm the villain.
Not only do I have to keep limping as I carry the weights of myself, but I also have to carry one, no, two, no... five.
Five.
And everyone acts as if the Prozac has magically given me the HP boost to carry this on.
I ask for help when my sore body can't hold anymore.
I just feel like--
"IT'S YOUR FAULT I'M THIS WAY."
"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO AGREE WITH ME ON EVERYTHING NO MATTER HOW BAD IT IS."
"YOU HAVEN'T HELPED ME AT ALL."
"PLEASE STROKE MY EGO MORE AS I PRETEND TO BE DEPRESSED LIKE YOU."
...Should I remind you of what I did for you?
How I tore my ligaments just so you can keep walking all over me?
How I forced to bite my tongue so hard that I began to ***** my own blood?
How I stayed through your ******* problems that had me rolling my eyes out of their sockets?
If only I can pretend to feel this **** as much as you do.
If only I could be a stone that you resemble to.
If only I could be so self-absorbing and privileged like you.
I wish I didn’t have to feel like this. I wish I wasn't starved of happiness that I rightfully deserve.
That I've actually worked for.
Unlike you.
Who was handed everything to them since birth.
Maybe that’s why you have the tendency to run away from your problems.
You’re scared.
You can’t grow up.
You think everyone will conform to your idealization of how a life is lived.
Because maybe that's what your parents wrongfully taught you.
You want to be the savior of those who are depressed.
You use their illness to your advantage to get some sick satisfaction off their pain.
And when they're left to tell you how wrong you are for that, you s--
"WELL HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO HELP?"
"IT'S NOT MY FAULT THEY'RE DEPRESSED."
"I TRIED TO HELP BY STATING THEY WERE FINE EVERY TIME."
"NOW PLEASE LET'S TALK ABOUT ME!"
... It's atrocious that one will pretend to be some God to a person that is losing their faith.
These sad, sick people will keep stroking your ego because they have nothing else, no one else, but you.
Or so you think.
And you know that. You will keep playing this stupid game called Life by using cheat codes on single player for your own self-indulgence.
You will keep acting like the hero for the distressed damsel waiting in the other castle.
And you will keep quitting the game in a rage when you're sidelined by other quests.
It truly is selfish and disgusting.
But what you may not know, is that the damsel in distress has her own strategy of escape.
She has had to survive this game called Life amplified to Hard Mode.
She knows the way of this unfair game, ghosted to seem like a helpless poor soul in need of salvation from some sort of cowardly knight.

But what you, or anyone doesn't know,
Is she is almost at the end credit screen.
Where there is a happily ever after,
Made possible, completely without you.
Your XP Is Running Low!
-Pause-
Are You Sure You Want To Quit The Game? Any Unsaved Progress Will Be Lost.
-Main Menu-
Mar 2018 · 404
An Emergency State of Mind
Fritzi Melendez Mar 2018
Sometimes I wonder if the razor blades I used to drag onto my skin leaves bits and pieces of itself inside my body.
It would explain why I'm always being pulled back into my room, as if it were a magnet.
It irks me that I always find myself standing in front of my bed and hiding under the covers until a new day begins.
I pull myself out, but I end up in this dull lighted room every single time.
I wish I could stop but my body self consciously just wants to be in here.
Is it the accustomed loneliness? The overwhelming depression? The looming anxiety? It's too much, my brain can't comprehend.
I just think about this while I lay in this ******* tear soaked bed.
I let my mind race while my arm trickles with the damages I've done.
They say blood is thicker than water, but when it's self inflicted drops of blood and bittersweet saltwater tears, they're both just as heavy.
I find myself punching and banging my head against the wall next to my bedroom door.
I can just... turn the **** and ******* leave, but I always stop in front of it as if it were a monster I couldn't defeat.
Am I entrapping myself just to make myself suffer? Do I enjoy this torture? Do I just love watching my knuckles turn green and blue?
I feel like I'm obligated to stay in this stupid room.
Maybe it's the self hatred telling me I deserve to be confined.
Maybe then no one will see my stupid face.
Maybe then no one can hurt me again.
No one else can hurt me but myself.
I know the capabilities to which my own destruction towards myself extends.
Some times I feel like I'm intentionally keeping myself in imprisonment.
I can't love myself because people tell me I must stay away from what I fear.
Fear is supposed to drive me away, not let it become one within me.
And I feel like shooting out my brain will make this white noise ******* stop.
I feel like slitting my veins on my wrists will make everything go away.
It can be so easy to take all this weight off my worn out brain.
All the pain, all the ache, all the hurt, all the suffering, all the torture, all the bruises, all the cuts, all the voices, all the reminders, all the insecurities, it would all just go away.
With just one single movement.
I can interpret this in however I feel would be for the best.
I can either open my bedroom door and run without looking over my shoulder, or I can open up my skin and watch it turn into a red and white color.
I just... need to get up. Move. Go somewhere. Anywhere. Leave. Now.

.... But I can't.
I have realized that I'm somehow always being pulled back into my room.
Mar 2018 · 401
Opportunity Cost
Fritzi Melendez Mar 2018
Why do I try with you?
I can never win.

It's like building up the biggest sandcastle so far away from the ocean,
Yet you bring a bucket full of water and pour it out until it's just mush.
It's like fixing up a heart that is barely beating almost to full recovery,
Yet you grab it once again and dig your nails into it until it withers.
It's like bringing my head up from the tides to breathe for air,
Yet you grab my head and push me back down into the water.
It's like being worn out from a long day walking drenched by my rain cloud,
Yet you barge into my safe home with words as loud and hurtful as thunder.
It's like quieting the sad blue baby to sleep after hours of constant crying,
Yet you wake it back up once again with your own terrifying screaming.

Only I am the one crying until I awaken with puffy red eyes.
...
It just feels unfair and frustrating,
to feel so high and crash back down in a matter of seconds.

It's always the times where I feel alive, where I feel like I can walk.
And then I feel your hands push me back onto the ground,
As I listen to you blame me for not standing strong enough.
How doing this will leave me permanently scraped on the knees.
How my weak knees will force me to become a failure.
...
Sometimes I wonder how life would be without you.
Would I be happy? Probably, but my mom wouldn't.
It's the lesser of the two.
The latter of who is most important.
It's either the one you fell in love first while the other was forced.
It's abandoning the one that has less to lose.
The potential gain you receive from the kisses my mom gives you.
and I am the opportunity cost of your relationship with her, it seems.
You chose this life, yet you act like you despise it.
It makes me fear growing up, if growing up means to become cold and erratic.
...
Everyone wonders why it all affects me so much.
Very rarely do I get a break from the endless vast that holds me in its arms.
But when its tired arms puts me down, I'm able to walk freely.
I can breathe again, I can feel again, I can smile again, I can be me again.
Until you command the vast to hold me much tighter than before.
And I drink in the vast and let it soak into my brain as it leaks out my eyes.
And I can't help but do what I'm conditioned to do: blame myself.
I'm just the loss from the gain.
the chaos from the calm.
the bad from the good.
the pain from the pleasure.
the black from the white.
the second from the first
and let me tell you...

2nd *****,
But you wouldn't care.
It gets so frustrating to be able to take a deep breath and enjoy the feeling of happiness, just to have me go back to feeling depressed once again in a matter of seconds because my mom's boyfriend thinks he has the right to throw me down all the time.
Feb 2018 · 627
Hermes' inJustice
Fritzi Melendez Feb 2018
I've been thinking more about you recently.
...No, not like that. Don't get the wrong idea,

Again.

You come back into my mind like the text notifications that would light up my phone.
Only this time I can't press the block button,

Again.

It's an odd feeling, a sort of confusion that gives me anger.
But I don't want to try and figure it out,

Again.

I was vulnerable, alone, suicidal, depressed, and you knew that.
You took advantage of me with your manipulative "I love you"'s

Again.

I fell for it, I was weak, and I loved you for awhile, I truly did.
Until you made me take off my clothes and give you a show,

Again.

It was intimate, for the first couple of months I thought.
But you began seeing me more as your ****** object,

Again.

But I wanted to believe you loved me.
So I opened my skin for you to make your home in me,

Again.

Did you deserve that? At the time, I thought it was only right.
But giving you my ***** home was my mistake,

Again.

The cycle continued, manipulation of *** for my dignity.
My identity was at stake, I was scared to hear you say,

"Again."

Silenced by threats that would expose me more than the skin I showed you.
So I, weak and stupid, fed into your fantasies

Again.

Emotional turmoils arose if I didn't give you what you wanted.
And I, depressed and scared of being alone, endured the hurtful words,

Again.

I had let your words define my worth.
I was nothing more but just someone who deserves this hurt,

Again.

There's a reason I stayed, but I feel like it was more rather for me than you.
I feel like some days I wanted this pain, or that I deserved it,

Again.

My trust was tattooed on your hand, my heart tattooed on your foot.
Never realizing the damages you left in me,

Again.

As you began to rattle my rib cage to wake me,
Asking me for more, and more, until I bled out my soul,

Again.

Forceful grabbing, soulless insults, groaning and yelling,
Then you'll leave, high and dry, for hours until you were ready to start,

Again.

My body shakes, my mind in disarray, buzzed like bees in a can.
I wept as I had to bandage myself,

Again.

You broke me as easily as a porcelain doll.
And I laid there, numb, as you kept moving your hips faster,

Again.

My body turned cold, as my heart packed its bags to leave.
I neglected myself, all for you, but you just wanted to keep going

Again.

You probably didn't care that I said I couldn't feel a thing.
You covered my mouth, ripped off my clothes, and forced yourself through,

Again.

Stating that I'll feel you inside, I'll feel our love in my chest.
But I cried and all I could feel was the yearning to slit my neck,

Again.

I had many breaking points, but none the worst as the last.
I was ready to give my tired body to the Reaper's arms,

Again.

And so I did, I left without a care of whatever you were going to do.
No matter how many threats and insults you shoved into my ear once

Again.

You wanted my hollow body that echoed your voice of "Take it off for me,
Again."
And I stab myself through my stomach, slice myself in half, rip you from the grip you had around my heart, snip your gnarly fingers from my brain, and say

"No."
Getting closure of the abuser I stayed with for 8 months.
Feb 2018 · 551
Human Flesh
Fritzi Melendez Feb 2018
I bite my cheeks down until my mouth foams with blood and saliva.
Intentionally or not, I love the copper taste.
My eyes can only see the normality of it all.
But to others, I look like I need help.

I grit my teeth until they crack and fall out of my lips.
The blood gushes out, **** I can't get enough of this.
This pain that my body seeks to self destruct.
It's harmful pleasure that emits from my nerves.

I chew at the sides of my mouth as it leaks out with blood.
So bittersweet, I can't believe my body produces this.
I guess it's just me trying to calm my nerves.
I can't stop shaking while I type these words.

I scratch my left hand until I peel off the skin.
Through my muscle tissues and my leaking red veins, I can see the end.
I feel my eyes go wide and turn crazed.
I'm not suicidal, I'm just a mess, okay?

I dig my finger nails deep into my palms.
Little crescent like shapes of a blood red moon.
I feel like I have the world in my hands.
But is it dangerous to give that power to an insane man?

I punch erratically until my knuckles turn blue and red.
Licking off the residue of blood stained cement.
I feel the adrenaline rushing through me.
Punching the ground until my skeleton gets a taste to.

I slit my arms to perfect red dotted lines of 11.
There's a specific reason for that number.
But it's a secret you'll never find, so I just laugh.
While you watch me split my skin in half.

I bite my lips until they to begin to bleed.
If I do this enough, maybe I won't have to ever speak.
I **** until my lips turn dry.
And I penetrate through my skin with my teeth once again.

I chew my nails down to the core.
Watching the red water bleed through the cracks of my fingers.
The stinging sensation that makes my chest tense.
But floods my face with a warm, bright red.

The demons have already chewed down to my bones.
It's slow, but painful, but I love their tongue sliding on my flesh.
Sinking their teeth to rip me to shreds.
And so I bite down more and savor the taste.
I am self-destructing.
Feb 2018 · 986
Firefly
Fritzi Melendez Feb 2018
I'm trying hard to run to catch the firefly as the night stalls.
Emitting such a beautiful pastel blue light, the size of an 8 ball.
The closer I get, the faster it darts away.
I can try to sleep, but I feel too jittery to lay.
Silly little bug, I just want to catch you!
I want to put you in my mason jar and stare into your orb of baby blue.
I...
Almost...
Got...
You...
...
Stop making me run so much, I keep tripping...
I can feel the grass under my feet tipping.

You're at the grasp of my fingertips as you taunt me with your flickering light.
I stand on my tippy toes and reach up into the night.

I'm...
Almost...
There...
...
But you fly away into the vent.
Why won't you come to me? I'll even pay your rent!
Am I doing something wrong?
I can attempt to sing you a lullaby song...
...But you still won't come out of there.
I shake my head and brush away my hair.
I take a deep sigh and see you as a loss cause.
I take a step and fall onto my knees, immediately looking up and I pause.
I'm in my room as my skin breaks and bleeds.
You fly across my face one more time in an evil attempt to tease.

Stupid...- Wait, this isn't what my real eyes see.
I look in the mirror and there She is, staring back at me.

...It wasn't real, right? It was just my imagination?
****... why does this keep happening again?

   b
               e
                                      c
     a
                                                          u
                        s
e          

y                            
                              o
  u

d                
         ­                                             o
               n
'    
                                                                ­                    t                        

                  ­         l
i              
               s      
                                                 t
e                ­          
                    n
.
I thought I saw a firefly fly around my room last night. I saw Her again.
Fritzi Melendez Feb 2018
How much more will I have to break my bones,
How much more will I have to stay paralyzed,
How much more will I have to rip out my skin,
How much more will I have to claw out my heart,
Before someone comes and reincarnates me back into a healthy new born?
I’m used until I'm useless.
Feb 2018 · 432
Iris’ Dawn
Fritzi Melendez Feb 2018
One soul.
One heart.
One mind.
Two eyes.

Two window panels to see it all.
Your relationship with the sun had always been so strong.
It wasn't a surprise that the yellow ball of fire shone its light through you.
The sunlight loves to stare into your eyes.
A shifting kaleidoscope of green-blue hues.
The angelic light surrounding your free-willed, sun-kissed hair.
Your fair, fragile skin, warmed by the sun that invites you for a hug.
The only source of life it wanted to give itself was to you.
It wasn't a mistake that the sun chose you as its shell to live in.

One love.
One warmth.
One light.
Two eyes.

Two emerald colored eyes to look directly at the people you love.
A toothy grin to compliment the joy in your eyes as well.
You radiate through the breath that you exhale.
You are the sun, the person who everyone wanted to revolve themselves around.
And you always welcome them with your warmth and light.
Your presence is the break of dawn that people enjoy waking up to.
And you were just as happy to tell everyone "good morning."
Your love for everyone is endless, unconditional, unfathomable.
I wanted to bathe in your sun rays and drown in this home feeling warmth.

One hand.
One confession.
One hug.
Two eyes.

Deep down, I yearned to be your moon.
I was merely Pluto, the farthest away from you.
No, you welcomed everyone in, including me.
I am useless, I am small, I am not what I say I am.
And yet, you still let me in.
The gravitational pull encouraged me to move.
I held your hand and felt as if my heart had been dipped in your sky.
I saw your irises turn to every spectrum of color.

One day.
One breakdown.
One hand.
Two eyes.

My light dimmed as I was pummeled in a meteor shower.
Swimming into a black hole I intentionally wanted to reside in.
But you are the sun, you needed everyone perfectly aligned.
You bathed me in your sunlight as you wrapped your arms around my dying body.
Your sunlight, making my tears evaporate.
You didn't let go until I glistened with stars.
Your warm green eyes, staring right into my heart.
"I'm always here for you, Fritzi, you know that right?"
And before I could respond, I was thrown into a rocket ship for a sudden change in my planet's location.

One me.
One year.
One change.
Two lies.

The first was that we'd still communicate through the satellites.
After awhile we began to orbit through a different planet system.
Houston, there wasn't a problem with the communication, we just got busy.
We had to tend our gardens of stars and **** out the oncoming asteroids.
The second was that we said we were there for each other.
But with the lack of communication, the atmosphere became silent.
Vast, dark, empty, cold, but I still hoped for the static sounds on the walkie talkies.
I never saw the sun again after the take off, I never saw those two gleaming green gems again.
It grew cold and all was black, never realizing I'll soon regret the silence so deeply.  

One decision.
One mistake.
One crash.
Two dead.

You were the first one to go.
...
Hearing the static crackle sent my heart racing after years of a dead signal.
I listened and was suddenly turned deaf from the radio waves that formed the bad news.
I saw the planets collide right in front of my now dull eyes.
A fiery, colorful explosion, and stars dripping out of space one by one.
And then it all sank, this wasn't real, this isn't real, it can't be real.
In my shock and confusion, I was ****** into a vortex of complete darkness.
And although there is no sun to tell me when to wake up now,
I still wake up just in time for the break of Iris' dawn,
And I hear her; I hear Iris whisper to me "good morning."
An ode to my dearest friend, Iris Dawn.
Feb 2018 · 413
Demolition
Fritzi Melendez Feb 2018
I still dream about the home my lifegivers nestled in in hopes to start life anew in a country that will once begin to tear
All over in the course of years,
They began to paint over the white walls with the yells that bounced from wall to wall.
Never realizing our big family will soon turn small.
Everything was blue, and only two spots became red.
That was the day my father realized he had the strength to break down this nest with his very hands.
I turned and saw mother, multicolored with blue red and purple. As expected, she always had an eye for colors.
I turned to see my siblings, cornered and shaking so hard, our blue began to stain the floor.
Seeping through the cracks and digging into the dirt which will eventually begin to tear down the house.
A grand finale of a door slammed shut.
No back turns, just left us in the rut.
I sleep and wake up into the mixture of birds singing,
and in the next room my mother is crying.
I open my door and it falls to my feet.
I look around, and I'm overwhelmed with defeat.
Our house is broken, it's all gone now.
The dwindling love that once blossomed is extinguished now.
I pick up the pieces and begin to rebuild.
Surround the walls around my mother, to keep her safety sealed.

Because sadness can’t be left alone, sadness stays and seeps into you in hopes to weather into your mind and heart until the process of deterioration begins.
... You see,

I didn't understand love for awhile since.
Hardship after hardship, it still never made sense.
I came to realize that love is painful.
Love is sorrowful.
Love is beautiful.
Love is blissful.
Love is the act of rebuilding a broken house.
It isn't just about your spouse.
Love is inviting forgiveness into your rebuilt house in order to keep moving.
Soon enough, those feelings can be packed into boxes and displayed in the new house you move in.
And although there are still many cracks and torn down roofs,
The strength of the wall shows that love is bulletproof.

I have yet to learn more about love, about forgiving, about betterment.
But for now, I'll keep rebuilding my own home with more bricks and cement.
Been postponing this poem for awhile now, I believe it's time to let it go.
Feb 2018 · 190
Suicidal Distortion
Fritzi Melendez Feb 2018
good for nothing failure.
that's what you are.
a loser who cant be up to society's par.
always finding the easy way out.
going to the most wrong and jagged routes.
such a coward,
such a mess.
no wonder you're always so alone and depressed.
no one wants you here,
why dont you just die?
nobody will miss you,
nobody will cry.
you're just wasting oxygen,
you're just wasting space.
why dont you slit your wrists so you can be erased?
what? too scared now to slice your arms?
don't want people to see that you self harm?
how pathetic, how tragic you are as a person.
i hope more bad things happen to you so it can show you a lesson.
your pleas only provoke my demands.
your persistence will make me send you to hell for eternal ****.
shut up, no one wants to hear you speak.
everyone thinks you're an ugly stupid freak.
you hate yourself, and other people do to.
that is why all your friends and boyfriend left you.
stupid ****, you cant do anything right.
always so whiny and uptight.
look at everyone, theyre laughing at you.
your stupid face, your stupid reactions, i know you see it to.
you're a disappointment to everyone around you.
that's why no one praises you for the **** that you do.
you are disgusting.
every single cell in your body is sickening.
cant even imagine how horrible it is to wake up with it in a daily.
no one is to blame for all this **** but yourself, but maybe,
here's a suggestion:
G O  K I L L  Y O U R S E L F .
been feeling suicidal lately. this is what i hear.
Feb 2018 · 387
The Bad Seed
Fritzi Melendez Feb 2018
I know I have the capabilities to succeed...
But it's so hard when depression clings onto you,
Plants its seed into your brain,
And grows bigger and heavier each day,
All the while the roots dig deep into your cerebral cortex,
And feeds off of your saltwater tears and the dull light of your bedroom.

It grows,

and grows,                                        

                                 and grows,

Into a helpless plant that entraps you within.
Closing you away from light,
Eating into you like a fly in a fly trap.

It's the secluded feeling that makes you insane.
Waiting it out until it frees you from itself.

But it just keeps growing,

                                                    big­ger

and stronger.                                                      

­
And it always seems like the only way you can stop it,
Is from killing it from where it started.
Depression has been affecting my every day life.
Jan 2018 · 211
Real Friends(?)
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
Why do you say you care,
when you dont even care to listen to what's beneath my hair?

All you care about is ******* a person that only loves you just for that.
All you care about is your own selfish needs.
All you care about is your small problems you whine so much about.
(Seriously, it's starting to get on my nerves.)
All you care about is the people you haven't been able to ****.
All you care about is your relationship.
All you care about is using your mental illness to get what you want.
All you care about is manipulating those who are dear to you.
All you care about is revolving your world around toxic people.
All you care about is the horrible parts of yourself.

And yet,
You don't understand why your friends are in pain.
Or why you don't even have any friends at all.
You don't understand why he loves your body so much but not your heart.
You don't understand why you're still sad.
You don't understand why people step all over you.
You don't understand why you are so alone.
You don't understand why you tear yourself apart.
You don't understand why I am mad at you.

And yes,
I have been mad at you for such a very long time.
Because I, your friend, will sneak out of my house with just a dime.
And I can turn this shiny coin to your vibrant smile.
I can twist the tides to make the ship sail less violent.
I can break my bones and rip my skin to make you a comfortable tent.
I can listen to you and watch you cry as you vent.
I can be the comfort you seek solely from your relationship.
I can say magical things that can transform your hurricane to calm waters.
I can tear myself apart just for you.

And yet,
You are still not here for me.
I have toxic people as friends.
Jan 2018 · 265
Scars & Ink
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
I hope my name sticks to you,
like a regrettable tattoo.
after death.
Jan 2018 · 893
Yesterday I...
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
Yesterday I woke up in a feeling of pure nausea.
I threw up in the shower, but I forced myself through because,

I have to keep up with this facade that I have my life together.
That somehow, in some way, I’m getting better.

Yesterday I went to school and I felt scared and alone.
I have no one to talk to, all I have are memes on my phone.

But I have to keep up with this facade that nothing is wrong.
That I haven’t been suicidal and depressed for this long.

Yesterday I came home in a feeling of exhaustion.
I saw a message from a so called friend who said it was me he would abandon.

I can’t keep up this facade, ******* it, I’m already so alone here.
Why would you abandon your friends for a girl who barely knows what personality you wear?

Yesterday I broke down crying from the loneliness and silence in my room.
I tried to sleep it off, but I just woke up in a nauseated doom.

This facade is only a wall to block those who wish to care.
And yet I always claim that I’m not being treated fair.
...
Yesterday I slit my arms until they bled.
Because I’m tired of the things that everyone said.

I can’t keep up with this facade that I’m happy, because I know I’m not.
I feel it every day and it makes me feel like I should lay on the ground to rot.

Yesterday I...

Yesterday I wished there was no yesterday.
Only a silence to fill the room of a body in decay.

But I have to keep up with this facade that nothing happened last night.
I put my long sleeve sweater, smile, and quietly march on, hoping they never notice another lost fight.
I had a bad day yesterday.
Jan 2018 · 534
Ceniza
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
There's a soft grass field in which I lay.
I close my eyes and breathe in the atmosphere.
The soft wind makes the grass sound like an ocean.

But, it's a bit too dark, isn't it?
I open my eyes to a splash of colors and patterns.
Brown grounded coffee beans.
Orange burnt from the sun.
Tan insides of a tree trunk.
Black like singed ashes.

And green.
The color of life.

The flowers tickle my cheek.
Stroking my face with a gentle touch.
I feel a raindrop fall on my nose.

I giggle softly.
It's going to rain soon, but I don't want to go.
Everything seems tranquil right now.

I close my eyes again.
A soft sound rings nearby mixing into the sounds of the wind.
It's almost putting me to sleep.
I breathe with the motion of the hum.
I wish I can stay here forever.

The sun is so warm against my face.
I feel nothing but the grass brushing against my skin.
I feel the soft hum enter my lungs and back out my half parted lips.
I want to drink this feeling.
This feeling of comfort, of warmth, of security,

of home.

It's so quiet, I feel loved here.
The sun kisses my forehead.
The flowers strokes my cheek.
The grass caresses my body.
the raindrop touches my nose.
The atmosphere drowns me in serenity.
...
But I must get up before the thunderstorm comes.

I take a deep breath in,
and I open my eyes.
I exhale out,
with a long and deep sigh.


"I'll be back soon for you, my kitty."
an ode to my beautiful cat, who always fills me with love and care.
Jan 2018 · 2.1k
s top i t
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
the ringin g in          my              he ad       doe snt stop
it                   is                              so            lou d
a const a nt              dea d           s i lent  soun d
              eee e e e e e e e e  e  e    e            e          e           e             e                            
                          e e                      e ee                                     e e

         b                          w w aa                 a         a               a       a        
   a                        a                          ­ a    a                         a  
                                         w         a  a  
                   a            a                    a        a        a            ­  a               a  b      b


i   fe el               w eightl es s
im no t            m y se lf                                                          
p l ease          le ave         m e                                alo ne

  i wa n t                 t o                       be                       f ree                                  
  i t                hurt s                                      so mu ch
                             

i ca nt                                   h ear                    
i      am n ot                                         m e                  
i dont wa nt to            c ry
a     ny                                               mor e
                 i    m    sor ry

i h ad to  te ll the m
.


.


.



y                
                                        o      ­        
   u

                                 
     s      
                ­                                            h
                                o
                                                                ­                     u
                                     l
     d                                  
   n
                                                    t
         ­               
      h
                                                  a
                   v  
                                                             ­                                     e
                                                               ­     s
                  a
                                      ­            i
    d
  
                               m
y
                                                               ­                                             n
                  ­                                                  a
m      
     ­                             e
...
Jan 2018 · 260
Release
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
one more
isn't
just one.
I want to cut so badly right now and i cant stop crying
Jan 2018 · 1.1k
She Took A Form
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
She took a form,
of whispers in slightly silent sounds.
A sad and helpless woman,
soft spoken, and slightly broken.

Last night I saw her.
My body went numb,
and quickly into the cold.
She held my nose and my mouth closed.

Her wet, long hair brushes against my cheek.
Quickly realizing the wetness is the blood on her own.
Intense bleeding scratches below her eyes,
and her eyes with an iris in disguise.

I hear her again.
The whispers, the loud silence.
Turning more harsh as I began to struggle loose.
The cacophony of noise and air pressure in my ears, her grip imitated a noose.

I can't breathe,
it's starting to hurt.
She won't let go and I can't move.
I claw at the side of my beds, and this she disapproves.

W A K E  T H E  *******  U P  .

She yells,
and I quickly jolt awake.
Panic mode ensues,
and my mind's bulb has burned my sanity's fuse.

I go erratic,
and I feel like I'm losing my mind.
She took a form,
from my mind's dark thunderstorm.

...

and I don't know how to escape from Her.
I saw and felt and heard Her yell at me last night. It scared me to the point where I felt sick and began to feel my chest hurt.
Jan 2018 · 245
Lack of Oxygen
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
beep beep beep

i wake up today and everything seems okay.
i get myself ready and dress up for today.

i put my backpack on and begin my trip to school.
pressing my forehead against the bus' window that feels cool.

i put my earbuds in and listen to nice music as i watch the sun rise.
but... i hear a kid shouting in the back going off about someone who looked weird to him, as he begins criticizing their appearance and personality and...

...nevermind that, today is good.
today is the day where depression is not being rude.

i quickly tune them out and concentrate on the lyrics.
and before i know it, i am already out of the bus, ready to be fearless.

i open the door and enter my school.
and... there's so much noise that quickly hits me all at once, and everyone is talking over each other and i see someone running and another yelling and it's only 8:20 in the morning...

... i walk quickly to the library, where it is most quiet.
i take a deep breath and calm down my mind's riot.

today is good, and i want to take advantage of this.
i dont get these as often, so it gets really easy to miss.

i remind myself that i need to keep happy.
dont let them get to your brain's anatomy.

i hear the bell ring, that means it's time for class.
I walk out of the library and into a mass.

of... people quickly walking to their respective classrooms, the hallways are becoming congested  and people are trying to run and push through and yelling and laughing and it only gets worse once the warning bell rings and...

... i found my classroom, im the first one in.
i take my seat and lift up my chin.

today is a good day, im not going to let it pass by.
i pull out my journal and let out a small sigh.

i think im handling myself pretty well, i hope it stays like this.
and... then people begin trickling into the room, one by one and then five at a time. it feels like everyone is looking at me, the girl in front of me always does like if i have something on my face. do i? i quickly check myself on my phone screen and...

... i realize what im doing and quickly put it away.
i have to stop acting like people are predators and im the prey.

i ignore my discomfort for the rest of my class' times.
i quietly do my work and im still keeping my happiness as my prime.

im doing okay, this is going great!
i hear someone talking about population rate.

wait... they're talking to me, ****, what do i say? im already stuttering and they have a surprised face. it's such an easy answer yet i make it so hard, i just need to get to the point before i talk too much and look like an idiot and provide them an example for why they should stay away from me...

... i go back to writing notes on my journal and pretend that never happened.
my hands are shaking and my forehead is dampened.

no, today is being nice to me, i need to let it be.
i know i'll feel accomplished at the end of the day, i just need to wait and see.

my stomach begins to rumble, i think im ready for some food.
i enter the cafeteria to place down my belongings, just to notice it be moved by someone rude.

and... then it hits me, the noises pick up once again and everyone is louder than ever. i mean of course they would be since it's lunch time, but do they really need to yell? i see a fight start and everyone crowds around, phones flashing, loud yelling and erratic laughing and...

...i feel horrified and quickly leave with my food tray.
im starting to panic, why isn't this feeling going away?

im supposed to be happy, ******* it, i made this my goal for today.
so why isn't this feeling going to bed to silently lay?

i lose my appetite to eat and throw it in the trash.
i feel my brain burning with fire and leaving traces of ash.

and... the noises are becoming closer and i hear everyone laughing. laughing at me, staring me down, i bring my hands up to touch my face and my cheeks are wet, im crying, i touch my chest, my heart beat is going crazy. my hands wont stop shaking. what is this? what is this feeling? i cant understand, i see so many eyes of different colors and shapes and they're all on me...

... how can i be happy when i feel everything is closing me in?
isolating myself in the walls within...

... i quickly fall back into sadness, and the cycle continues.
i can never get past this feeling here, the torture ensues.

the time goes fast when im in a panic.
it's 4 in the afternoon and my hands and ears feel like tv static.

i feel so exhausted and depressed and completely in a state of unrest.
and i know i have to get home and study for my upcoming tests.

but... i dont, i get home and lay down on my bed. i cry and cry because my feelings wont go away. im alone with my thoughts that torture my soul. i cant move, i cant enjoy the things i want to do. i have no motivation although im by myself now. but it's so hard to keep this up when im in my depressive state right now. i cant eat and my window falls into night, my eyes stay closed but my body keeps me awake with all its might. at some time, my mind finally goes to bed to lay. and i think to myself i just want nothing more but to

beep beep beep*

start another day.
struggling a lot with my social anxiety lately.
Jan 2018 · 462
Uncensored
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
take off my
clothes. you'll see
the red lines
intertwined with the
pain and suffering
that my heart
endures. the suffer,
the pain, it
doesn't go away.
undress me completely.
you'll see my
story. my weak
hands, my weak
heart, my shallow
breath, it all
tears me apart.
look at my
chest, not my
*******, that doesn't
matter right now.
you will begin
to see all
my insecurities here.
look at my
stomach, weathering away
the scratches all
over, stinging, bleeding
so much bleeding.
look at my
arms, the bumpy
red lines of
a depressed and
suicidal ***** who
believes the lies
fed into her
brain, just to
throw it back
out. look at
my thighs, the
fingerprints that are
engraved underneath the
red webs, the
home that the
metal-like spider
made. look at
my hands. my
cruel, unforgiving hands.
the greatest danger
known to man.
look at my
face. my insomnia
induced, tired face.
worn out from
tears and anger.
look at my
eyes. the salt
water burns my
retinas. blinded in
torturous traumas, taunting
my cheeks with
its bittersweet release.
look at me.
look past my
figure, my feminine
physique, my tongue
that licks the
very lips that
has kissed death
many times before.
leave me in
the ****. exposed
for everyone to
see. underneath my
clothes, underneath my
skin, maybe then
they will begin
to understand that
I am not
okay.
beneath my skin, beneath my bones.
Jan 2018 · 689
Her
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
Her
I hear the whispering again, a soft spoken voice.
Creeping into my ear and making me feel conflicted on whether I should rejoice.

Are you my savior or the spawn of the hell I've been dealing with lately?
Are you going to rid my pain with the words you utter to me?

She doesn't answer my questions, just states what she says.
Taunting me with her hollow lips and her non-existent face.

I'm in constant fear, but I also adore her.
Her; is that her name or is she just my mind's blur?

I want to ask, but she doesn't answer me back.
Yet her presence makes my mind’s vision lack.

I don't know who she is, maybe a figment from my cerebral?
Though, I have to abide to what she says; she'll threaten me with something lethal.

She wants to tell me so many things, she told me I had to know.
She acts like an angel, but I guess it's just for show.

She turns her back, and her wings are dipped in an ink of black.
She sits in front of me with a razor cupped in her hand; her smile makes my skull crack.

She says I'm in danger, is she talking about herself?
I can't ask questions, yet the curiosity engulfs.

She is always there, perched beside my ear.
"Soon the pain will go away my dear."

She's so loud, yet her whispers crawl through my skin.
"Loud Silence." she tells me with a grin.

Her voice is constantly in a whir.
My brain, her home, it's all for Her.


it 's  ju st
He r. H er. Her . H
e r. H er.
H e r .
A poem on the whispers and voices I've been hearing lately.
Jan 2018 · 890
Shower Thoughts
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
I've been in a predicament for awhile now.
A war waged within myself.
I'm so tired of waking up nowadays.
But I can't sleep at night either.
I feel the sharp stomach pains once again.
I'd expect them to make an appearance on my arms.  
I'm starting to hear the whispers more often.
I'm left to wonder if they're my friends or not.
The anxiety has gotten worse since.
I can't breathe and my eyes well up with tears.
The weights become heavier the more I move.
I dread getting up for school.
I feel like everything is closing in.
My skin is burning red.
I feel like my skin is peeling off from my face.
I feel exposed and uncovered.
The loneliness is killing me again.
I really wish I made friends here.
My heart still hurts from my ex lover's words.
But it's also everyone's doings.
I'm left to wonder why I get so happy.
And then I suddenly crash back down.
I feel like I need to rid myself from this pain.
But I'm such a coward to let everything go.
I feel my skin turning cold and numb.
Is it my provoked veins or is it...
...

**** it, I stayed too long in the shower again.
my morning routine.
Jan 2018 · 304
The Hiatus
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
It seems like everyone just wants to disappear.
left alone, secluded, isolated from what is far and near.

It seems like everyone just wants to be thought about.
Have people wonder where they are or what they’re doing, but no one can get the secrets out.

It seems like everyone just wants some time alone.
To take a breath of fresh air and heal the wounds that haven’t been sewn.

It seems like everyone just wants to run away from their problems.
Hiding behind wooden doors and glass screens, wanting out from the hell it stemmed from.

It seems like everyone just wants to concentrate on their dreams.
Hidden in another dark house while the other is waiting to pop the party streams.

It seems like everyone just wants to let go.
But they struggle to take out the knife that pierced their heart from the person that loved them so.


I want to disappear.
left alone, secluded, isolated, but I’m too scared to lose the people that are far and near.

I want to be thought about.
Have people wonder what I’m doing or how I am, but no one cares enough to get my secrets out.

I want some time alone.
But every time I’m alone, I’m engulfed in an overcast of shadows reminding me of the wounds that I have never sewn.

I want to run away from my problems.
But there’s always so much more coming and every corner is another hell where it’s stemming from.

I want to concentrate on my dreams.
But I can’t sleep, I get nightmares; I cant breathe, I never asked to, and I know wherever I’ll go, they’ll welcome my death in with popped party streams.

I want to let go.
But I keep twisting the knife in my heart that has been severely wounded by many who claimed they loved me so.


So I go on a hiatus, and give the perception that I’m not here.
So that people wont care when I take my own life, and I wont have to second guess my fear.
Even if I get into a hiatus, everything still feels the same. This is my perspective on a hiatus.
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
He wants to pretend that last night was on the timeline of never.
But he forgets to remember that I’m an overthinker.
Drinking the venom that forms on his mouth.
Letting it spread into my veins until it numbs my capability to make words come out.
Tangled in his web of lies, waiting patiently to let him bite my head off.
Beaten up by his uncontrollable anger until I’m left in gravel with a ****** spit and a hoarse cough.
Standing at the very end of the line of dominoes he purposefully toppled over.
Unsure of his motives to hurt me, I don't think the pain will get any better.

I don't know what I did wrong for him to hate the person he used to love so dearly.
I feel death will be the bandage for the knife wounds he left in my heart so merely.
I wish he knew how much it hurts and how much I cry.
But to him, it's just another day passing by.
I don't know what I did for him to resent me so much.
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
I'm beginning to see my brittle bones make an appearance through my fragile skin.
I can see the curvature of my bones and where the connections begin.
I fear that the lack of my appetite will soon turn me dry of food and water.
And my mind and body will begin to weaken and  my perception will alter.
I numbingly watch the vultures circle around me under bright lights.
I want to cry as I listen to them say they loved me with all their might.
And they'll want to know how could I have possibly done such a thing.
Not realizing my lonely sessions consisted of my disorder to binge.
I can not chew without getting the sickening feeling of nausea.
I'd plainly just rather not eat until I pass out into euphoria.
Wake up sick once again, and the cycle repeats.
I lay weak in bed wondering when my disorder will put me into defeat.
I believe that is my goal, to torture myself in the ways that I can so I can go away.
Vulnerable in front of a mirror, wishing I can be put into the earth to lay.
I am weathering away, day by day, night by night, tracing the bones of my rib cage.
I can't eat, it will all come back up in a violent rage.
The growing pain residing in my stomach hurts.
But if it promises me death, I want to stay in this desert.
I've been struggling with eating a lot more lately, I fear I'm developing an eating disorder.
Jan 2018 · 340
Equinox
Fritzi Melendez Jan 2018
seasons change, but I remain the same.
A feel of the frost that lingers in my hands, leaving a numbness to idly caress them.
A taste of the scorching heat that singes my tongue black, spewing out fire like an angered dragon hungry for tears.
A view of heavy storms or sunny days, confusion of feelings that leads to frustration and outbursts.
A sound of leaves crunching on the ground, wishing I could just fall and be crushed down to nothing but dust.
A smell of each holiday transitioning to the next, leaving me to wonder when I will to.
And yet, the seasons go by so quickly, and I am stuck in time.
I am stuck in a place where people keep moving on while I’m confined to just watch the seasons go by.
I can not move.
I'm incapable of letting go of things that hurt so I can heal and move on.
Nov 2017 · 10.6k
Exhaustion, The Ventriloquist
Fritzi Melendez Nov 2017
I am tired with the feeling of being dismissed, criticized as to what I'm going to do next.
I am tired of forcing myself to choke back the tears, hide my barb-wired stained arms behind a long sleeve sweater.
I am tired of fidgeting to keep my sleeves past mid fingers, because my knuckles are swollen and bruised green and purple from yesterday's misdemeanor.
I am tired of insomnia always wanting to be held by me, being woken every 2 hours as if I was tending to a crying baby.
I am tired of running around and around my brain, always overthinking until I go past insane.
I am tired of how my energy stops out of the blue, leaving me nothing but to stare into the wall dazed and confused.
I am tired of making people run away from my presence, love and hurt and leave me until I'm left too sick to keep myself barely on balance.
I am tired of walking with wobbly and scraped knees, my palms are bleeding with skin peeling off, barely able to write more sad poetry.
I am tired of being hurt by everything and everyone, they say my heart is a blessing, but it has cursed my life since the day I was born.
I am tired of the cruel criticism towards me, years upon years of insecure comments that developed into PTSD.  
I am tired of having to rely on someone else's heart just to make myself feel worthy and complete, I can't help sharing my entire heart just to get it back again obsolete.
I am tired of the sickness that tells me good morning each day, opening my mouth to cleanse my body of the food from yesterday.
I am tired of looking at my skin in the mirror, as my rib cage becomes more visually clearer.
I am tired of breathing in the oxygen plagued with depression, opening my eyes to a vast blur in my vision.
I am tired of smelling the fear raid out of my body, their eyes watch as I shake and choke on my spit as I drown in the sweat caused by my anxiety.
I am tired of feeling incomplete, my hollow heart filled with thoughts of the night my soul fell to my feet.
I am tired of crying on the bathroom floor alone, shaking with ***** dripping from my mouth whilst trying to type for help on my phone.
I am tired of wanting to be loved and adored, knowing full well they'll leave me when they get bored.
I am tired of scrolling through my phone to fill the space of pleasure, because his name is screamed to me until not my legs, but my brain makes me shake as if I was having a seizure.
I am tired of being vocal about my mental illness, if it only brings me back into a bigger mess.
I am tired of ruining everything I touch, shattering like a fallen sculpture, not being able to fix it much.
I am tired of thinking until I get ******, screaming with every  punch on the wall because I'm alone and won't be missed.
I am tired of dreaming what could have been between him and I, instead I begin to think of different ways to die.
I am tired of seeing my window sill every morning, thinking about how I can just jump from it so I can avoid today's daily dooming.
I am tired of talking without words to speak, instead they're drowned out by wails until everything turns bleak.
I am tired of being told I'm going to be a failure, only because my suicidal thoughts have made me unsure.
I am tired of the pressure for me to do better in school, knowing they are just going to insult me for being an emotionally unstable fool.
I am tired of the tears kissing my cheeks goodnight, only to knock me out with the help of the looming monster that is impossible for me to fight.
I am tired of feeling and being weak and fragile, telling myself I'm strong are only words filled with false hope dripping with vile.
I am tired of the days I feel happy and alive, whilst also telling myself this is temporary and will soon deprive.
I am tired of my mouth being sewn shut as to not mutter a single word, trailed off when it finally unravels to people who refuse to have me heard.
I am tired of the numbness in my body after I break down, realizing the man-made tornado had once again ripped into my lonesome town.
I am tired of being alone and having no friends, because I'm still trying to heal from the knife twisted deep into my spine from the last person that wanted my life to end.
I am tired of keeping myself in captivity, when I know that I can free myself to feel amenity.
I am tired of the bipolarity in my decisions, always asking to be left alone but cry when I'm not given attention.
I am tired of being the family burden, an annoyance who can never do right with flaws that can not be undone.
I am tired of getting tangled into the constant mess I put myself in, they say I keep doing this to myself as I place my problems on my head with a pin.
I am tired of being ******* to the strings, in which exhaustion plays and moves me like a puppet's unescapable fling.
I am tired of being tired all the time, it's becoming so hard to find words that rhyme.
I am tired, I am just so
Tired.
Lately has been nothing but terrible outcomes and I feel worn out and exhausted. I don't know how much longer I can keep these shallow breaths going.
Fritzi Melendez Oct 2017
I wish I can believe
When you ask me how I am
Though your words of false concern
becomes muted by a high pitched tone ringing in my ears.

You only ever come
When you want to see something lewd
A stranger, a one night stand
Your pleasure is not my concern
How rude of you.

A so called friend
Who backstabbed me once before
I can't  listen
When your hands are painted with my blood
Are you here just to strip me of another layer once more?

My two caretakers
Who bound my hands and feet with repulsive diction.
The make believe stories they would tell me is fiction.
One day they'll act like water with a calm flow.
And most, a terrifying blizzard of snow.

My all time lover who broke my heart.
You try to help now, but it wasn't noted before.
A lot of the things that are happening now are because of your break up letter.
You are only here to pay for the damage of my brain and heart.
But I know you wanted to leave once you tore me apart.

And the people at my school
Who will pretend they knew me once I'm dead.
Who believe they knew the suffering yet it became apparent too late.
You act as if death is your motive to finally speak my name.  
But you all have ignored the ghost girl roaming past the classroom door's window frame.

Your words of false concern
Is apparent to my eyes.
I can see that you have tried.
But "I'm sorry" isn't a good response to someone who is
Already sorry for being this way.
I've grown to tune out people and push them away because they want nothing more than to hurt me or get something back in return or just plainly do not care.
Fritzi Melendez Oct 2017
I am mesmerized by the way he caresses my hands in his own boney flesh.
The way he seduces me with poisonous kisses that can break me down into mesh.
The way he carefully watches over me like a vulture circling around its prey.
How he comforts me with gifts of razor blades to end my horrible day.
How his love makes me physically ill to the point where I throw up his bland tasting food.
His lust for a lifeless body, patiently waiting for it to be me when the time is good.
I am in love with the way he looks at my desecrating body.
A flaming hunger in his eyes, I think it is only noticeable to me.
The way he notices my blood is weathering my heart as time keeps passing.
And the way he loves me for who I am without a lack of misunderstanding.
How he holds me oh so tightly when my mind is having another mental earthquake.
How he whispers to me that it will be okay to sleep for an eternity with him because the world I'm in is so fake.
I like the way he tells me to stop breathing and act like I'm at a state of eternal rest.
And the way he looks at my still heart instead of my *******.
The way he slowly runs his fingers through my fresh cut wounds and scars with a face of delight.
He says I made myself into an abstract work of art, always covered in pain and let myself be without a fight.
He traces my rib cage ever so softly as it is bound to turn soon to dust.
His heart makes my body quiver with unrequited passion for him I so dearly lust.
And his sinister smile he gives when he sees me cry.
I know he only partakes in comforting me as to not pry.
Because he knows just exactly what swirls around in my head.
He knows he can make me calm by talking to me about the life of the dead.
Because that is what he knows best, taking care of a heart that has wilt.
I mean, who wouldn't love a man so sweet who can rid us of self hatred and guilt?
I love the way he touches my soul to make me tremble, moan, and scream.
And the pressure builds up to the ****** until he wickedly stops and I'm left to cry out a water stream.
I am in love with the way he leaves me in hunger for days as to keep me on the edge.
And the way he takes away my breath with his tongue dancing on mine while my feet dangle from a ledge.
He promises to stay by my side as his after-life lover.
He has me wrapped around his boney finger like my neck in a hover.
He holds my bleeding hands as I fade in and out of what I was prone.
Because his love for me is so strong, he doesn't want me to transition to the next life alone.
He doesn't cry or tell me to stop at all.
He caresses me in his arms and tells me to let myself fall.
And for his understandings of my weak heart and absent mind,
I am in love with Death, because his heart is always aligned with mine.
He knows exactly what I want and what I want to hear.
He shows his love for me, with no doubt or fear.
I am in love with you, Death, my brittle heart is yours.
I promise one day we'll be together and for you my soul will eternally pour.
For you have always been there, speaking to me through my mind.
Reassuring me that you I will soon find.
I love you, Death, for you are my only company.
I'll come soon to you, and in unity we will be.
I am at a state of mind where I feel death is the only answer to end the pain I've been struggling with.
Oct 2017 · 806
My Heart Is Pastel Purple
Fritzi Melendez Oct 2017
I am discovering myself more and more now.
I remember, I used to hide behind the societal shadow,
I have hid in for a long time.
Suppressing what was known to be a bad sign.

I tried to forget the softness in her hands,
or the way her soft hair would blow onto my face,
entangling me in the scent of flower gardens in the sunrise,
silent whispers in our late-night sleepovers,
and waking up beside her dark circled eyes and her morning messy hair framed on my bed.
I'd glance at the mosaic, but had always turned away.

For awhile, I believed my mind was playing around with my heart like a toy.
I was always taught to fall in love with boys.
Besides, I never thought that I would remember these sensations again.
until the boys had left my heart broken.

And while the love I shared with the male flesh was of my happiest times,
I had to face the fact that he could never be mine.
And so I came to terms with the aesthetics of a girl.
When I first saw her, my brain had whirled.

I was confused for awhile, trying to find if this feeling was true.
And one day, a girl in my art class gave me the proof.
Though I'm quite timid, her sentences and sense of humor laced her tongue like silk.
I couldn't help but glance and let my feelings for her mat together like fabric felt.

Though I'm not ready to begin a relationship until my heart has completely healed,
I will admit, I like girls, I like boys, I know this is what I feel.
I'm understanding myself better and better now.
I hope everyone will accept me to somehow.
Coming to terms with my discovery of being bi-******.
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