I’m
       Picking you
                 Picking you
                           Picking you out
And
                          Bleeding you, bleeding you, bleeding you dry with
The
                         Sharp sheers of my too clever coffee-lipstick-stained
Lord
                          And the garden variety scorn you Rose-hipped hipsters
Said
                          Your rosy glasses and tinted cheeks proclaimed, and:
               I’m
                         Casting you
                                     Casting you
                                               Casting you out
The
              Immortal, infallible garden of meaningful
Man
            And his poetry-stained bedsheets and love bites
Has
            Taken to candle lit vigil nights and too tall pedestals, has
Become
            More or less himself, of himself, for himself, for nothing, really,
One
            With smug sadness and the proud self-aware death
Of
            Self-proclaimed martyrdom sold to
Us
            Twenty-five percent off at Walmart.
                      I’m
                                 Taking you
                                              Taking you
                                                       Taking you down
To
                     My level, (game over, hit restart)
Know
                    That you were always player two and
Good
                     Intentions are nothing more than fancy dress
And
                    On your sleeve sit a collection of hearts,
Evil,
                    They pave the way to hell.

I Will Never Give Up on You  
By: Miranda Martinez-Perez  

I've  been to a place "they" would consider "the top,"
And it felt great... that was.. until I fell.
It was a long way down. Would it hurt? I thought not;
And I was wrong, cause it hurt like H*ll.

I've hit rock bottom with an awful THUD.
Took me a while to realize I was still alive.
I wondered if it'd even be worth it to get back up..
Then pondered if I should just accept this is how I would die.

But something inside of me wasn't ready to fail.
I wasn't  ready to give up the fight.
In my mental prison, I chose to make bail.
I can't change my wrongs, but I can make them right.

So I got up, though it took all that I had left inside,
Went to that place that for so long I feared.
I knew the first one with whom I had to make things right,
that one was the one looking back in the mirror.

"I'm sorry," I said, "your expectations were not too much.
I admit I've just let myself get in the way.
I never took it into consideration that I alone am enough.
And all the extras in life were only for show and play.

You are perfect, I love you, and I am going to change.
I don't deserve for you to believe me, but I swear it's true."
The response I got.. I never expected to hear MYSELF say..
That was, "I will never  give up on you."

I think it was the way
Your hair fell across my lap
As you slept.

Or maybe it was the way
I watched your eyes light the room
As you looked for me.

Or it could have been the smile
On your face the first time
I awkwardly kissed you.

Maybe it's the way your
Hands trace love notes into
My arm when you want my attention.

Whatever the moment,
I knew you were the one
From the beginning of it.

And even though I know
The exact moment that I had to
Choose you,

Every moment since has been
A subtle reminder
That it was a risk worth taking.

Go ahead, saunter up and down the aisles
Run your finger down the shelves where I carefully placed all the fears I hold
But nowhere will you find that I fear walking this world in solitude
For I am a King inside the mansion of all my 206 bones

I am a shelter for myself
I seek only myself
I harbor love so passionate for myself, that I may burst like the death of a Star
I sometimes gift wrap the World and place it on a silver platter, just for me

But sometimes,
when the Universe trembles and the angels cry
I put my hands over my ears
because the quiet gets a little too loud
And when I sit on my throne and glance over my shoulder

Your absence,
I feel it a little too much

overcome with weakness and nausea,
I limp to my bed.
I rest my tired eyes,
and pray to god I wake up dead.
and light doesn't shine on any of my days
as I make my way through this foggy haze,
I try to look on the bright side of life
but all has been shadowed by clouds.
I didn't choose this life,
nobody did.
we were not told how hard it would get,
though I was just a kid.
I asked my mom why granny died,
why she gave up when pappy was gone.
and my mom gave me a very tight hug
and said that she just could not go on.
that's when I learned we could control our death
and god knows I tried a few times.
I was so tired of regret
I was so tired of goodbyes.
but here I am, to this day,
dragging my feet through life
but trust me, friend, this is better
than picking up that knife.

I am daughter to a man strung together from a multitude of inconsistency.
always late, lying about things
or with people he shouldn't be.
I am the product of a man who could not bring himself to give a compliment.
Trust is a five letter word synonymous with the word "myth" -
that is the greatest lesson my father ever taught me.

I love men who make promises they can't keep.
I love men that pull away,
make me doubt what I deserve.
I always wonder if my daddy thought I was pretty.

Boys love me when I laugh at their jokes
and make them feel like the most interesting thing in the room.
They like when I put their insecurities to bed.
Bed,
the most bittersweet place for a girl like me
to be.