I cannot decide how I feel
And I know this poem is going to **** more than listening to bad singing
But I just need to word *****
Life is a complete **** show
And yet we keep trying to improve it
Trying to improve ourselves
Fixing the mistakes of the past,
Or making them worse.

At the end of the day,
There are still people that are sad
There are still people that are mad
There are still people that hate
There are still people that make me wonder what could make them see the world the way they do.

But yet, I love living
Because I love myself
And I guess what I am trying to say is...

I wish someone would love me back.

I didn't realize how much it hurt
Until the next morning when the toxins escaped my blood.
I didn't realize that blood had pooled in my foot,
Leaving the nastiest of all bruisers.
I didn't realize how it had happened,
But I knew it had been done by someone else.
I didn't realize how much pain it caused,
Then felt the pain when I hit it against the door jamb.

I didn't think that it was broken
I didn't think that going to the hospital was necessary
I didn't think that I should stop running to let it heal
I didn't think it was as bad as it was...

People have had worse then broken foots,
And so I am grateful to only have a broken foot
Because having no hands would be worse
Having no hands mean having no expression through writing
Having no hands means not being able to talk without words
Having no hands is much worse than a broken foot.

So I will give into the pain,
Acknowledge the bruise
And realize that all of this was caused by a girl who had one too many shots
And will live with my punishment
Of a broken foot

all i want to do more than anything right now is to just lay in bed and dive deep into the novels of jane austen. she is one of the most brilliant woman writers of her time and when i leaf through the pages i feel as if she is sitting next to me in a rocking chair reading her stories to me. i wish i was jane austen.
intelligent, brave, independent, sophisticated, mature, but most of all single. she never married and learned that to love oneself is harder to find then the love of another.

Am  I the only one that appreciates the act of vomiting?
It is the one action where your body is cleansing itself,
And at the same time you would rather be dead.
It is beautiful,
The weird texture of slightly processed food that passed back from where it came,
The sound of purging oneself
But in the end, everything is better than where it started
And balance is restored.

if i have to read one more ******* love poem, i think i really will *****
all over my keyboard
and on the person sitting next to me.
it makes me sick to see these girls that cannot realize
that all the love that they need from life
is found within themselves.

i know it is great to cuddle up against someone
and feel their body heat against your own
and wonder if he or she could be the one
but is it not great sometimes to just lay naked with yourself?

you might try and show me that you care
by saying that you wish you could stop me,
but i wouldnt let you
because i cannot care
i want to be who i am

and i hear you talking behind my back
i cannot care
i am not hurt
i wish you would just stop
it doesnt make a difference
it just makes me angry
and that takes a lot to do.

just let me be.
just let me be.
just let me be.
just leave me be.

I HATE YOU FOR IT
I WANT YOU TO SILENCE
DONT ARGUE
otherwise, i cannot be here.

everyone can see it
but why cant you
maybe you are just too afraid to say it
but more than anything in this world i want to be held by you.
i want to look at me and see how i really feel
because even though we tell each other all our secrets
the biggest one that i have been hiding is all about you.

I waited by the phone patiently.
Maybe it was me.
He worked long hours,
and all I could do was wait.
He never called.
When he came through the front door,
he acted as if I wasn't even there
He wasn't the man I fell in love with.
his Work had consumed his being.

It wasn't organic
It wasn't what we talked about
It wasn't what we planned upon...
This isn't the life I want to live

I am a widow to a living man.

He doesn't notice my pain
He doesn't feel my loneliness.
He doesn't blink when I break down into tears.
He is dead inside
his Work has taken the man who used to love me.

i love you
but i am afraid to tell you
because i know how madly in love you are with her
and i know how madly in love she is with you
i know i cannot have you
so instead i will be your best friend
until she breaks your heart in two
i will stand there and pick up the pieces
we can try and put them together again
i will remind you how funny you can be
you will tell me what a good friend i have always been
and i will say thanks
because you were never meant to love me
but i will always love you.

Today is just one of those days,
he just gets sicker and sicker
he scares me.
he makes me want to cry a bit
But, I know it will be ok
because God is on our side
its not his turn, not yet not now
maybe it should be mine instead.

We are all just glimmers that lurk in the shadows,
Crawling towards the cries of the Ringmasters.
The Ringmasters direct the course of the show,
We just mere performers have no hope of ever being able
to inflict change in the act.
We are here to perform our most outrageous talents,
and impress the crowds,
But, what does it matter if we do not know how to impress our inner freak?
Sometimes we must travel down the rabbit hole to find out who we really are.