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Makala Feb 2015
Sometimes feelings don’t translate to words.
Sometimes they can only manage to translate to silence. 

And sometimes the best thing you can hope for is having someone to understand the poetry of your quietness.
Makala Feb 2015
Sometimes things aren’t fair and I have to remind myself to keep breathing so I don’t fall apart in the middle of class and I just want to scream but I have no voice in this huge world filled with so many others. It’s just not fair.

Sometimes I think so much it makes my head ache because all the thoughts are like knives in my brain and I used to wince every time one pierced my mind but now I barely blink.

Sometimes I hurt and my chest feels like it’s going to cave in and I can’t stop crying because everything I do isn’t good enough and I will always be a disappointment.

Sometimes I want to die because I see no point in living when my future is a black hole just waiting to **** all the light out of my life and swallow me whole. The stars in my eyes will fade and the planets in my hair will disintegrate and I won’t be able to do a single thing about it.
Makala Dec 2014
I do envy those who claim they have never been lonely. I envy that they have never felt that pain like I so often have. But I also pity them. I pity those who haven’t fallen to the lowest depths of human sadness. I pity those who have never climbed down the ladder of depression into the deepest well of suffering. Because if you haven’t experienced the misery, if you haven’t experienced the total absence of everything good, how can you expect to appreciate the joy?
  Dec 2014 Makala
do you know that feeling?
where you can't really
place what's wrong and you
can't really explain what's
happening around you but
you know you don't feel
alright and it's like you're
slipping away under the ice
and no one's trying to break
do you? do you know?
Makala Dec 2014
i have forgotten how to be myself, as if once when i was walking in a dream i forgot to wake my soul up. maybe it’s curled up sleeping in some far spiral of my fingerprints.
my friend tells me she can’t figure me out. she says the attic light is still flickering but the rest of the house looks dark. she says if you stare too hard at my eyes, you can see a noose up on the roof beam. she says i am standing on a stool, trying to decide if my life is worth taking.
i don’t know how to control myself. i lie awake at night wondering why i did things that make me cringe as soon as they happen. i lie awake asking myself how hard it would be to be normal. i tell myself that tomorrow, i will be perfect. i won’t laugh too loud, i won’t be a burden, i won’t speak unless i have to.
i spend so much time worrying about being perfect that i never get it right.
Makala Nov 2014
I am a thousand head-collisions of two
tractor trailers and you are the EMTs’
who come and save the motorists I put
in peril. I am that one-too-many shot of
***** that causes someone to crawl
to the bathroom on hands and knees
and you are the friend who holds their
hair back while they dispose of what
made them sick; me. I am the cancer
invading a loved one’s bones and you
are the chemotherapy that brings them
to a full recovery.
You are the beautiful arrangement of rays
that the sun glimmers down on peoples'
faces during the summer time, I am the
numbing frostbite from the coldest and
loneliest night of winter. You're all of the good
qualities made up in a person, and I am all of the flaws.
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