I am too young
To be this
Angry, hurting, empty
Girl.

We sprint through the trees.
And we are alive,
Our hearts burning as hot as the stars above our heads.
With a devilish glint in my eyes
And a lopsided grin on his face
We pick up our speed.
The moon breaks through my hair
And his laugh pierces through the chilled autumn leaves.
We don't slow our pace.
I feel the white hot pain beginning to spread through my limbs
Just as we reach the cliff and collapse,
Feeling nothing but the thrill and joy
That comes with our secret place
Where we cannot be followed.

As I stare into the black space,
I am surrounded by the sea of pitch
That overcomes my body with tremulous waves,
As my wavering heartbeat
Flickers like a flame in a downpour.
Nothing is clear.
The pitch is in my eyes and
As hard as I try to blink it away,
It consumes me until all I see is the blackness.
My limbs succumb to the numbness
While my soul is tossed around
Like a rag doll in a tornado,
Stuck in the same circular, shadowy pattern
Until it emerges,
Mangled and ugly.  
The shadow of the Hope I had in earlier hours
Has disappeared, melting in this
Disdainful, tormenting pitch.
It's seeping into my skin now,
Drowning me as I claw at my throat,
Desperate for a way out.
But the inevibility of it making its way to my heart is clear.
It'll form an incasing around it,
For that is its pattern,
To wait for the miner to chip it away.
But his chisel will eventually pierce my heart,
And the pitch will return.
It'll surround me and blind me.
It'll choke me until it's made its way to my heart.
And every time, he'll come back,
He'll let me breathe air for a little while,
But though the miner's heart is strong,
The pitch is a part of me now,
And my flame of a heartbeat is withering softly.

It's surprising, how many people
forget
That a certain amount of
Simple, small
Hairline fractures
Can break a bone.

He was the shadow to my light.
There cannot be one without the other.
No matter how fast I ran to get away,
He was always present.
No matter how close I got,
I could never touch him.
And he could not touch me.
My brightness made him stronger,
But also more likely to slip away any second
Like the early morning fog.
His phantom heart was something I could try to understand, but never fully reach.
We were destined to be side by side,
But never together.

Sometimes I wonder about
Who cares, and who doesn't.
Do those who don't think they do?
Because the young adult mind
Is clouded by hormones
And frankly, not fully developed.
So those who "care"
But don't ask questions about your life?
Those who "love you",
But aren't interested in talking about your passions?
Those who "want to be there"
But stop paying attention the second you feel happy?
Be wary of those people.
Because though they have pretty words,
They are always temporary.

It frightens me
How much time we spend
Focusing on what doesn't matter.
The petty issues that flood my generation.
They all seem to be swimming in the waves.
Fully absorbed in their "pain" and "troubles".
But I am drowning.
Because I'm tired of hearing about
Fashion.
I'm tired of little children crying over
"Love".
I'm tired of all of the self absorbed people in my world.
And soon, I'll gracefully exit.