Through buried pain, through pouring rain
By praying to the Inhumane
You wish one day to hold anew
The promises you never knew.
Poor creature! You will never see
The glory of eternity!
Walk down the Styx, your time has come,
Prepare to step into Bedlam.

You make me
Sick to my
Stomach
Yet I feel
Right at
Home
When you speak
Even one word
To me.

Because your presence
Can either
Make me feel
Like I want to die
Or like
I want to be
Around,
Hopefully with you,
Forever.

You either
Make me feel
Like I'm the most
Worthless
Person in the
Whole world
Or like
I'm the one
Who matters
Most to you.

And I don't
Understand
How someone
Like me
Could love and
Hate someone
So much

And that
Someone
Is you.

-e.w.

You saw
The thin scars
That line
About halfway
Up my wrist
And how
4 or 5
Were still
Swollen
And red
From two
Nights before.
We were at
Dinner,
But I saw the look
That petrified
Your face
As my sleeve
Inched up
And as your eyes
Examined them
Carefully.
You seemed sad
But you didn't
Say a word,
You just quickly
Changed the subject
As I felt like
Crying.

But it's been
Five days now
And you haven't
Confronted me
About the battle
Going on
On my pale wrist

But you've been
More considerate
And nicer
And actually
Made me feel
Like you're
Worried about me
Like you realize
That just because
I act tough
And strong
That may be
The farthest from the
Truth.

-e.w.

The world seemed quiet.
The teacher's eyes are sullen.
and the kids...
we're all so polite,
all so gentle
each breath filled with a cautious respect...
There's an air of despair,
as we mourn
one whom we loved.

That sight of the scars
Painting her young wrists
Shook me with with disbelief
Yet overtook me with jealousy

I'd never be able to express pain
Like she did in her poetry

The crispest of papers
The finest of inks would falter
In front of that beautiful, mangled mess
Her smudged, blood-tinged words would author