everyone's poems are of love
beauty, how happy they are
and mine are of my reality
darkness, lost, sad, real
i want to die
and you are all saying
how you love your life
im glad im the only one

light reflects over
        water
                            and i'm sorry
for anyone
          who
                feels the way
i do

i don't have any less blood  
i don't have any less thoughts
i don't have any less movements
i don't have any less love
                                                            but it's all for you
all of it

true,
   this one just requires
an overdose
of whatever pills

why are there people who believe its "poetic" to self harm
it frightens me that there are teenagers who are doing this
to themselves, they're self harming because they think it
is "darkly beautiful" or "sadly romantic" there is nothing
beautiful about the scars covering my skin there is nothing
romantic about being terrified someone, anyone, might see
them, these lines of weakness, that i've placed there myself
it's an addiction, a sick way i clean my head, because
the thoughts jumble up, thoughts of; missing, emptiness,
time, space, names, locations, people, dates, stories, sadness
wrongness, hurt, longing, hate, self loathing, destructiveness
i am no where near proud i fell this deep into a hole this dark
i'm scared of being close to people, i shut myself away,
starving myself to reach "perfection"
because maybe if i am skinny enough to be considered "perfect"
then people wont care, wont notice the pink and purple lines
covering my form. no. there is nothing poetic about sadness
nothing. so stop convincing yourself you want to be a sad
lonely, scared, self destructive "poet"

// too many ideas
   &     not being able to think of
only one to do //

hold yourself above
the scars of my heart
displayed on my wrist
stomach and thighs
hold yourself
higher than my
low life
existence

no one ever wants them
but nothing really stops them

i want change
              i look out my window
                                  same old rusty fence
            wire interlocked
it was probably cool
                                          once upon a time
   daffodils have flowered
                                    but they are half dying
                           the bright yellow petals have began to wilt
   the lawn is mowed
                  or was, its grown a little since
      but weeds have defiantly began
                                        their sneaky rebellion
our cat settles itself
             onto a rock, to warm itself
                                       as it grooms and cleans

          i have a single window in my room
                           that is the view
            its not much

                             is it a crime to want change?

i felt something today
     i felt a small tickle of
                                                    contempt
    or
                  hope?

it was only tiny
    it didn't last long, but it was
                                  something
and
                                                       it shocked me
i'm not broken

        not quite yet
                                it gave me    the slightest feeling

of happiness
                                       it wasn't complete
               i'm not complete

i cant be
                 not for a little while longer

but i was okay today
        only okay

punch
punch kick
punch kick slam
                                                            the walls are just far enough apart
                                                            that i can't touch them with my arms
                                                            stretched as much as they can
i fling myself at the wall
i know they're white
i've seen them
                             so bright
i had to squint
                                                     but now
                                                i know there's a light
            i can see my hands
                      in front of my face
but it only makes the room
       a dull grey
                                          not the white it once was
               fingernails claw at the walls
                         trying to discover where
                                                          where that faint light
   is coming from
                                    i can't located it
          where's it coming from?
and why isn't it as bright
as before?                                              (..when you were here..)
                     i scream and kick
      bash walls, crash around the
once a comfortable space
                    which had now began to close in
           maybe it was just the low light
but i can't breathe
                                                    it's getting smaller
              i fight harder
where is the light?!
                        where is it?!

punch
punch kick
punch kick slam
punch kick slam fall
                               fall
                               fall
punch.

telling you.
asking for help.
pushing you away.

there are beautiful things to see on cold wet nights
                     you just have to open your eyes
           and consider it

                it was a cloudy night
hence the rain storm
       but it had stopped for a moment
and the clouds shifted to show the gentle spread
   of stars beneath the wispy clouds
                        to let the moon shine
                i noticed the leaves on the trees that night
after the heavy rain
        they glistened and sparkled in the pale
                light of the moon
twinkling as the wind lightly ruffled them

                             ...

I lay in bed


back turned to the world
curled up
hiding from everything
huddled and confused
waiting
sadly enough
for someone
to come and lay
with me
and hold me
just to hold me
love me
just because
you love me
because I'm lost
confused
and lonely
and hell
it's cold
turning your back
to  stop the pain
when it's internal
please hold me
just because

a girl
       wakes up
                 eyes upon
staring at the ceiling
     finding the little spiders
              have grown and multiplied
she smiles
     such small things, such little lives

she rolls out of bed
    shuffles around to find clothes
                    in semi darkness
shoves her hair up
         out of her eyes
and into a loose pony-tail
                                   walks out the door

a girl
       wakes up
                 eyes upon
staring at the ceiling
    not noticing the little spiders
                eyes turned inwards instead
she smiles
        believing today's gonna good

she hops out of bed
    hurries around to find clothes
                    exited about the day
pulls her hair up
         looks at it, considers it
and re-does it to make it perfect
                                   skips out the door

a girl
       lays in bed
                 eyes closed
not responding to the world
     the little spiders have moved away
              grown up, gone to a better place
she's still
     quiet and cold

she's still in bed
    her mother bangs on the door
                    wondering why she's not up
opens it to tell her to hurry
         looks at her, says it again
begins to cry, runs to the form
                               sobs because she never knew

i have to learn
that i can               be happy
with two
                         helium                     balloons
and                                     a cake
happy sweet sixteen
me

i'm blank


i don't know
      what i'm thinking
if i'm thinking at all
             but i think (if i'm thinking)
  i missed something
along the way
     received wrong directions
to you, or
            you're moving further away
from me
                       and i'm so confused

everyone
                                                                ­    has
       different
ways
                            of coping
                 mine
                                                     seems to be
   a type
                     or
                                        form
         of
                             shutting
                  d
                                    ­                                   o
      w
                                           n
                                                               ­                                                                i create brick walls
                                                           ­                                                                 ­   to hide myself
                                                          ­                                                                 ­    when i'm scared
                                                          ­                                                                 ­    or too vulnerable
                                                      ­                                                                 ­        to handle what's going on
                                                              ­                                                                 and i hide myself
                                                          ­                                                                 ­    under a veil
                                                            ­                                                                 ­  of a strong person
                                                          ­                                                                 ­    when really
                                                          ­                                                                 ­    i'm still crying
                                                          ­                                                                 ­    not too far down

sometimes i wonder
                                        if i
                        stare into the sun
      long enough
                        it will brighten
                                 up my mind
  and everything
                              i see

is it just poets that are
             broken lovers?
     or is it just
broken lovers that
             become poets?
x

love is a two way mechanism.
it needs to be rebounded to work.
without the rebound, it changes.
becomes self hate, loathing, hurt.
the thing that makes it two way.
it needs to be given to be received.
if you give all your love away.
packages covered with bright paper.
then there is none left for you.
your love is required to be given back.
with the force that you gave to them.
this is why one sided love fails to work.
with no one to ricochet it back to you.
stronger than they received.
your love disappears, flies away.
you fall down into darkness.
and keep falling.
down deeper.
down darker.
down colder.
you hope that you’ll find light.
someday you will, hopefully.
you’ll find someone who is able.
strong and perfect for you.
the right things in the right person.
who will hand you back presents.
packages of love thought long lost.
given with a smile and bow on top.
wrapped with a return address.
only for the one who gave it.
to be returned some day.
when you find the light.
your love.

i wish to burrow into your velvet skin

deep down past the harsh coldness

into the veins leading a clear pathway

past the protecting ribs

around your sturdy collarbone

directing me to your heart

where warmth resides

as a permanent member

my brain has began to not function
                       as it used to
               it's lagging, catching on old things
    it didn't use to do this
            or maybe its just not as noticeable

i threw myself at my wall
over and over
kicks punches
hit it with my knees
elbows, shoulder, head
i wasnt trying to break through
not possible with
double brick walls
i guess it just
symbolized how
helpless i feel
when you say you dont eat
or sleep and can hardly move
i hid behind bruises and cuts
it hurts to move
i'm tired
but i'm still alive
and am willing to help
don't **** yourself
it'll **** me