Time
unique from any other idea.
Never stopping,
always moving,
ticking,
counting down.
But for what?
Time has no thought,
no care for anyone,
or anything.
Things that should stop time,
and the earth itself,
hold everything frozen,
just for a little bit,
don't stop it.
Time plows on.
Things that should be suspended,
held in perfect clarity,
and beauty,
so that you can remember it for always,
aren't.
Time moves on.
I should be able to envision my first kiss,
my last kiss,
moments that should last forever in my mind.
But I can't, because time goes forward,
and I forget.
Time seems to be going faster.
Ever moving.
My days are running out,
and quicker than I think they should.
I know I'm not very old,
but my youth is running out if that even makes sense.
I graduate in three years and I'm on my own.
The big world, mine to conquer.
To make a difference in.
But I realize, no matter what I do,
time will move on.
With, or without me.
With, or without my memory.
Sometimes I wonder if I really matter,
or if there is any reason to go on.
If time moves on and forgets,
if time never looks back,
then why should someone remember me?
Time doesn't care.
But then I remember,
Time keeps ticking,
and so should you.
So should I.
So keep moving on,
keep fighting.
Be the person you want to be,
be the change in the world you want to see.
Be remembered.
Keep moving.
Just like time.

I am the girl
that looks to the rest of the population
and wonders what the hell they think they're doing.
I am the girl who is small
yet strong.
I am the girl that never cries
until someone I love is lost.
I am the girl that will fight
anyone or anything
just to survive
just to keep the ones I love safe.
I am the girl who is scared to trust
and scared to love.
I am the girl that will love fiercely and stay loyal
as long as they do the same.
I am the girl who fights
to appear strong
even when I am broken inside.
I am the girl who is now
past her breaking point.
I am the girl who struggles every night
to keep the blades away.
I am the girl who knows every possible way
to **** yourself and how much pain it brings.
I am the girl with fresh cuts and barely healed scars.
I am the girl with burns on her arms.
I am the girl who never sees light,
no matter how bright others say the sun shines.
I am the girl who others avoid and call a freak
or a ******.
I am the girl that has been pushed down so many times
sometimes I wonder if I should even get back up.
I am the girl who tries her hardest to reach her goal,
succeed and survive.
No matter what.
I am the girl who has lived heaven
I am the girl who has lived hell.
Who am I?
Well, I'll leave that to be decided.
Who are you?

If I could tell you
What I needed to
Maybe things would finally be fixed
And you would be mine.
But my secrets stay buried
And guarded
And safe.
I wish I could tell you
How much I love you.
I wish I could describe
how hard it is for me every day
To see you and love you
And not call you mine.
I wish I could explain to you
About my past
About how I'm too scared to trust anyone
Because I've been hurt and beat down
Too many times to let someone in again.
I wish that I could let myself love you
Instead of being scared to be hurt
In the end.
I wish I could tell you
Of the friends that hurt me
And the boys that broke me
Beyond repair.
How the boys kissed me
Used me
and left me hurting.
I wish I could make you see
How the depression darkens my world
And crushes me daily.
How some days
I can't even get out of bed
With the darkness in my world.
How my anxiety makes it hard
To talk to people
To even breathe right.
I wish I could hide my burns
My cuts
My scars
From your eyes.
I wish I didn't sound so selfish
And stupid as I write this poem.
I'm not trying to.
And I think it's time
To go for good.
I'll pull the trigger.
I'll go.
I'm sorry.
I love you
Goodbye

Dear Diary,
I miss him.
Oh my God, do I miss him.
But he pushed me away because of the things I did.
I deserve it.
I was so afraid to hurt him.
When I explode like the grenade that I am,
I didn't want to hurt him too.
So I hurt him.
Now he's gone and it hurts.
I feel like he is physically hurting me
when I hear the razor-sharp edge to his voice when he talks to me.
But it's my fault.
I know this all sounds like talk from someone crazy,
but think about it, it makes sense.
A lesser pain for him
versus dealing with the empty hole that would appear in him
when my clock runs out and
I finally give myself over to the sweet unknown of death.
-Me

I guess after a while,
we just shut off.
We stop feeling,
we stop caring.
We have nothing left to give
so all we do is take.
But taking, without giving
just seems so wrong.
But we're so lost
we don't know how.
We try and we try
and we fail and we fail.
We're failures.
We're not worth anyone's time,
not worth anyone's energy,
and we do not deserve any love.
We are the broken
and
the broken cannot be fixed.
We are broken glass
and if you get too close
all you'll do is get hurt.
We try to love,
but all we leave are
scars and cuts
all over.
The only thing to do that's right
is leave the broken to die.

On one hand, I can't wait to leave,
but on the other, I'm terrified of growing up.
I have trouble seeing the light.
What's the point if you can't see?
There isn't.
There's a ton.
There's none.
You're stuck in this void of emptiness
and you can't get out.
Stuck in a darkness where there is no light.
There is no way out.
You stay there alone, confused and afraid.
No one comes to find you.
Suddenly, there is someone;
suddenly, unexpectedly, amazingly,
and yo don't feel alone anymore.
Then they leave you, and it's worse than before.
Why did you try to grow up and to love?
Now you're afraid to love again.
Afraid to try again.
Afraid to be.
Besides, if they couldn't love you,
Why should you love you?

I have poems swirling in my head
that I want to share with the world
but they just feel trapped
as if the walls of my mind
are actually a steel cage
holding them against their will
as if my mind is afraid
that if it lets them go
that they will flow into the world
and be taken by the wind.
It's as if you hold onto the
thing you love most in the world
Because as soon as you loosen your grip
just the tiniest bit
it leaves and it never returns
and so anything you get you hold onto because if you let go
you will lose it.
If I let my words go
I will lose them to other people's minds
they won't be just my words anymore
they will be the world's
and I won't have the beauty
that I made just for me anymore.
I guess I'm being selfish?
But I mostly just think I'm scared
I'm scared to lose the things that I love