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

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 .

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.

my heart drowns in the sorrow you created.
with pieces of my mind you use for your entertainment.

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.

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.

love.
bullying.
heartbreak.
tragedy.
existence.
preference.
color­.
belief.
exhaustion.
insanity.
pain.
sadness.
illness.
worthiness.
stress.

all of these words tied together in one single, blood red soaked string.
even if we wanted to, we can't stop thinking about the past, present, and future.
we contemplate our lives as if the knife will deliver our freedom with wings.
but what we know without our power to **** ourselves, we are clearly unsure.

you see, many people have this stigma that killing ourselves is a selfish way to go.
that they believe we just need to "go for a walk" or "smile and don't be negative" as if it was our choice to become who we are.
many people believe we are just putting our masks, as if our illness was the stage and we were the characters putting on an overreacted show.
question is: don't you think we all would have done that if it was so easy to be happy and go far?

we put guns to our heads,
ropes around our necks,
slits on our wrists,
bags over our heads,
cement blocks on our legs,
pills down our throats,
and sidewalks crushing our fragile bodies,

because we are ******* tired.

we feel like we have no other choice of escape because, believe me, we have tried to protest against our sin.
our cries for help are seen as attention or fake until our bodies are found hung like limp and colorless ornaments on a burnt Christmas tree.
only in the dire times of our ends are we finally noticed and we fight, and fight until we begin to realize that it's the same vicious cycle of hell that we are thrown in.
our bodies being weathered and crushed and grounded into fine ashes that are later then caressed by the air as the preacher sets them free.

We feel so alone through the fights that are proclaimed to others that they will be there yet they vanish like cruel, cold-hearted magicians.
We are the rabbits in the dark pitiless top hat alone to swallow knives for everyone's entertainment as they stare fascinated yet afraid.
No one wants to help a helpless person for fear that their problems only result in a lack of cognition.
The responsibility of contemplated lives rest in the hands of those who want help, but at the end leave after all the hopes they said.
-
...I wish you can see my eyes when they're swollen red with droplets of dull crystals roll down the cheeks I so badly damaged with scratches as a fit of rage on Sunday.
But alas, I'm invisible to the naked eye like a ghost, am I the proof that paranormal entities exist?
I wish you can see my struggle as I attempt to break away.
From all the pain residing in my head that makes me think like a pessimist.
But, please, open your eyelids and expose your mind to the dark places we are living in even if it will take sometime for your eyes to get adjusted.
Uncover our eyes and wipe our tears and check our skin for cuts and scars.
We will refuse and say we're okay for the betterment of everyone else's situation.
But don't give up, for we know truthfully we have wandered into this dreadful, dark, and confusing brain maze pretty far.

We wan't to stop crying and hurting and feeling like our lives don't matter because we see ourselves as unwatered, wilted flowers given to a single mother of 3 kids whose father couldn't spare a little bit of sunshine to fill our stomachs.
Truthfully, we don't want to die, we want to find happiness and peace within ourselves to stay alive.
We want to be saved, we want to be helped, we want to be heard, and we don't want to further plummet.
So please, if you cared enough to read this poem for the betterment of our mental health, provide us the help and care, and call 1-800-273-8255.

Do you know that feeling?
When you feel your skin peeling?

Where your brain becomes uncovered
Revealing all the pain you tried to recover

And, oh god, you see everything becoming darker
And you plead for escape, but it's getting so much harder

To breathe.
And you begin to heave.

Oh god, they're closing in
And you think to yourself you cant relive this again

But they show no mercy
And they shower your eyes in shadows until everything becomes blurry

It's so dark and scary to be left like this alone
But everyone else always tells you to go into your happy home

But what they don't know is that house burned down
And they can't understand why you never make a sound

You know you're in pain and suicidally crazed
So why do you let everything become a haze?

I don't know honestly, I just bottle it in
And all I ever have is a paper and black pen.

I hate how you would give me painted masks for me to wear as a gift of your love.

How you said that if I wore them I would show you love that only comes from above.

How you said it was for the better but at the end it wasn't enough for you to stay.

And slowly and surely you began to fade away.

You said I had to change, and baby, if it was for you, I would.

Always for you my love, I thought to myself, I should.

And I began to mold myself into fitting your criteria.

But I guess that led to our demise and my hysteria.

And I began to think when I'm left all alone.

If it was me or you that burned down our sacred home.

And I try to take off the masks that has melted onto my face.

And then I realized your masks were never replaced.

And, god, I felt so ******* dumb for letting you do this to me.

But it's okay, because i still love you, can't you see?

And slowly I'm chipping away your painted masks.

But it's so hard to move when you've been drowning in the bottom of a flask.

But I'm sure you don't understand, besides, your mask was easily ridden.

And we become a love that is painfully forbidden.

It was always for you, my love, but never for me, and so...

I hope you know that I still love you, and you easily let that go.

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.

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.

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 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'm a revolving door.
pushed around and stepped on until I'm dizzy and sore.

Used only for your own benefit.
And then you say words that make me feel like ****.

sometimes i need to remind myself that im not the only flower in your garden when your tears is pouring out like a watercan.
and sometimes i need to remind myself to plant some seeds in my own empty garden that i drowned during the hurricane.
i come to realize that im bad at picking seeds that can endure the cold winter season.
and you are better off without me, and only with the flowers you have by the million.

"It is all in your head"
Yes, my illnesses resides in my head.
Out of all illnesses that can happen anywhere in my body,
My brain is the paper that soaks up all this poisonous black ink.

Yes, it is in my head. But just like any illness, I wish for it to go away.
I do not wish for more pain, more fear, more mellow feelings.
Yet, it sticks to my body like a fly in a cobweb, struggling to get out until finally it succumbs to its demise.
It's a fight against time and a battle caged inside my skull.
I can hear the banging, the screaming, the explosions.
And they're all directed at me.

Yes, it is all in my head. The constant fighting that leaves me so worn out, I can barely open my eyes to a pastel colored sky as the sun wakes from her slumber.
Skipping breakfast because it just doesn't seem appetizing, as I feel myself weathering into nothing but bones and skin.
Avoiding social interaction because I'll open my heart as if it was an invitation to make those feel welcome in the home that is my arms, fearing that they'll tear out the wallpaper and hammer out the walls.
Staying in my four wall cage that is my lonesome room because I have no motivation to do anything else but to cry and sleep and contemplate my life choices.
Running my fingers through dried red lines carved into my skin, fascinated at such a gruesome work of art made by yours truly.

Yes, it is all in my head. A constant battle waged against me that I fear I will never win. All I ever have is time, time to heal or a time to never feel.

Yes, it is all in my head. I am sick and in pain. I am afraid that the blood flowing in me will soon come to a sudden stop.
I need you to believe that what is in my head will continue to spread until I am no longer.
I need you to believe in me when I say I need help.

Today, I held my mother's hand and cried.

Knowing the next time she might hold my hand, it would be cold and attached to a lifeless body.

She could not see my tears, for her back was turned away, her fragile body motionless as she grips my hand softly.

I traced her rough, wrinkled, worn out fingers and closed my eyes.

I'm sorry, Mom, for self infliction is the way I'll die.

A warm heart that once beat,
Is cold as ice from tragedy, sorrow, and defeat.

I'm on a whim contemplating between disparity and continuity.


Stuck between where the fire meets its maker doused in gasoline.

Who self destructed to the point where her hands aren't clean.


And turning a deforested soul into a forest full of wanderlust.

Moving along with Earth's rotation as she becomes crystallized into her origin of star dust.


Cemented between inhaling the start of another new season.

And exhaling out gun powder from the war waged against self treason.


Feeling the outline of my fingerprints just to pretend his skin is still touching mine.

And reading the crystal ***** as they fall down my cheeks telling me his heart was never aligned.


I can't choose between the feeling of infinity and ephemerality.

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.

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.

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.

for those who are concerned; I dispersed within the vastness of outer space.

My body, once caged all the stars, are finally in its resting place.

Maybe here, I am finally seen by those who romanticize the deathly night.

I am at a tranquil state, where all the planets are aligned just right.

No deaths, no violence, no wars, no fights.

No existential pain or crisis to plague a human's state of mind.

I am bound within the molecules of space and time, dancing on asteroids, I am entwined.

Finally, my body is free from the darkest of pains that had wallowed in my rib cage.

All the bottled emotions that had forever kept me enraged.

I have exploded into a beautiful mess, now the size of silica.

I am in motion, twinkling for those bellow in such a sorrowful world, as they paint me in Starry Night replicas.

They'll be envious to hear that I am conversing with Van Gogh himself.

We are in the cloudless night, a painting in a museum, and history within books on a bookshelf.

We're sprinkled in the dark like a beautiful combustion.

All the answers written in the stars for what we once questioned.

He tells me "be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high."

And that was enough for me to just get by.

I am a galaxy, freed in the vastness of the universe.

Into this new life of neighboring planets and meteors, my body will immerse.

I am the stars you see on your lonely nights.

And this time, please take your time to analyze my light.

I know I'm a mess, but I can make it beautiful.

For what it's worth, I once took the form of a dying artist, whom was so mutable.

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.

"It's over, I cant do this anymore. It's better for the both of us."

I heard those words and I feel my body being crushed and shattered by the tires of a bus.

I know you couldn't see it, but I visioned the world being hit by a meteor.

My world, to be exact, and I begin to transform into delicate paper, and you, a sharp scissor.

And we all know that scissors beat paper. I just didn't think it would be this soon.

Because in my eyes, I was the atrocious sun, and you were the beautiful moon.

A tragedy, I must say.

I mean, I guess no one really expects this type of love to go away.

I mean, hell, even I didn't want to believe it.

Because you began to cry and I had to offer you my solace and comfort.

I had to choke back my razor sharp tears.

And protect you from all of your fears.

Just like I always have tried to love you for your heart.

But it only seemed that my love wasn't your preference of art.

To this day, I regret comforting and letting you cry as I sit on my bed staring at my laptop screen trying to calm you down.

And you were so selfish to not see that I kept you afloat while I started to drown.

And I just want to say that I ******* hate you but I still love you so ******* much.

And I want you to feel pain but I also want to love you again, but just enough.

I had hoped you would give me a second chance.

But oh, with those sweet, hope filled words, you had me in a trance.

Until I realized that it wasn't going to happen, oh not at all.

And my friends became a razor and the edge of a building, 40 stories tall.

When did my love notes turn into suicide notes?

When did my perfume become an ocean of sunken boats?

And, oh, how long did you keep this love facade on me?

One, two months, maybe even three?

What was it that had made you leave instead of stay?

Because you said it were the fights that made you go away.

But honestly, I think that's *******, because if you were so mature like you claimed to be,

You would have sat me down and talked it out, but instead you closed the door behind you and locked it with a key.

And oh **** no, don't you dare tell me that I shouldn't have gotten so attached.

Because you encouraged our plans for our future together to leave our horrible past.

You told me you loved me and swooned me with such diction.

But then again, you led me on for a couple of months, so how can I know that wasn't fiction?

I just don't know what to think of that night.

It was a signed waiver for my death, timed just right.

I'm just kidding, ***. You only added onto my stress of tests and the end of school.

And you sure did your job at making me your fool.

And today, I still cant breathe when I think about you creating future plans with someone else.

As I stand here fumbling the ceiling so that I can hang this death providing belt.

I hope you got what you wanted, the happiness of being alone.

But I hope you know, when you come back home, I'll be dead on the floor, a person whose heart you once owned.

Just like it's always been for people like me.

But I know you can't see all of this because your tears made your vision blurry.

But I ******* hope you see that you completely shattered and broke me and I had to be ******* strong because I had hoped if I did I can prove to you that this can all be fixed,

But...

Now I'm trying to to go about this alone and refrain from getting my emotions and sicknesses mixed.

I hope you feel happy that you killed the person who loved you so dearly...

And even through all this mess, still I will be dumb enough to take you back into my arms if you ever wanted to, but that's just my theory.

And I reminisce our memories and your gifts and force them into a box.

But I much rather be in one 6 feet down the earth, because I'll only perceive myself as an orthodox.

A contradictory, a mess, someone who can be replaced.

As I stand my ground and move on from you at such a slow pace.

funny how
people turn into smokes in mirrors,
when words
of melancholic tones are merely uttered.

let me love, let me crave.
let your light lead the way.

give me sorrow, give me pain.
strike my thunder, pour down rain.

make me rage, make me cry.
bleed on page, fantasize the sky.

make me weak, make me shake.
help me seek, let me break.

make me hurt, watch me die.
this was the ripple effect of your goodbye.

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.