I have deluded self delusions when the tick goes tock at 4'oclock,
Demons scream from the pinkish grey spongy filled with tar cells of my lungs,
The woods I wander in wondering why there I cannot breathe and you do not heed,
The warnings I whisper through your phone in a melodramatic uncondescending tone,
Met with Mrs. Plath in a black cabin to pour blood from poetic scars whilst drinking from whiskey bottles of poisonous stardust derived from a sandy beach named lost and found insecurities,
At ease my disregarded beauty ever so defined by fiction,
**** its now half past 4'oclock and all I wish to do is pollute the air with dusty ill impaired screams,
I want to scream,
I want to scream,
My blankets envelop me drowning out my ink tears as they drip drip drop stop,
Stop looking at me that way,
Stop talking to me that way,
Oh god don't hate me for my coagulated words!
Trapping myself in-between a sandwich of a multitude of feelings ghastly emotions,
Smiling depression shaking hands with bitter caramel anxiety,
Pirouetting on a trampoline of repetition,
**** it is now 5'oclock I must shut my eyes and dream of when another tick goes tock at 4'oclock.
An anonymous girl ©

I held a bottle of pills in my hand last night,
I gripped it tight,
Tight with all my might,
Lightning struck by thunderbolts of pain in recesses of numbness,
It is like I never felt again what I feel now,
But I have,
Numerous times indeed,
A deafening longing to perish,
To escape a prison cell I have been wrongfully confined to,
A prison cell for which there is no exit,
Surely this cell was appointed to me wrongfully?
Surely I do not deserve to reside here?
Alas all I wish is to feel freedom,
A taste of the sweet essence ordinary people have in their imperfect dreamy lives,
I unlocked the box inside my head years ago,
The box which held broken pieces of me,
These broken pieces haunt me day and night,
Cackling at my unfortunate soon to be demise,
Sneering with disdain at this sour truth I whisper to myself,
The truth that turns in my head daily,
Hourly,
The truth is I ponder death more than most,
More than I should.
An anonymous girl ©

Mumbled jumbled crosswords of incomprehensible words scattered along my mind,
Unable to make head or tail of it all.
Darling poetry,
What are you trying to tell me?
Suffocated by a plethora of letters that envelop me like an untamed sea,
Darling poetry,
I love you so, sweet love,
For you are my soul and heart,
My morning and evening star,
Darling poetry,
You kiss my soul patching its ripped edges,
Dry my moth bitten tears as they touch my cheeks,
Darling poetry,
Panic attacks strike like lightning bolts,
And you terrify them away in angry revolt,
Darling poetry,
My saviour when the demons known as anxiety and depression show their beastly unrelenting faces,
Darling poetry,
You are my silver moonlight solace and my golden sun rays,
In unforgiving rain and gloomy cloudy days,
Darling poetry,
I have whispered secrets to you that I keep in a crystal Pandora box under the creaky floorboards of my soul,
Darling poetry,
When my heart's centre cracks and bleeds you glue the cracks shut with love,
Darling poetry?
Thank you for being my one constant constellation.
An anonymous girl ©

I throw angry words around like punches,
Like fiery lightning in crunches of dry cereal and no milk,
I am my own lightning,
I am the icy fire of a dragons hot breath,
I do not fight with fists,
Only narratives and figuratives,
I hesitate when it gets personal,
Oh so personal that my very own words that I conjure up from my wizards hat choke me for days on end without a single reprimand,
Oh how bitter this butter does taste upon my poetic pancake,
When will I get the recipe right and not left,
Left without a decision but to drink orange juice hope so sour yet so sweet,
What comes after hell I ask you?
Certainly not heaven or life of any pleasurable kind,
No, not that pleasurable kind you with your pervy mind,
I see you thinking such things of me as you read my poetry,
What a mad woman this must be,
To utter such words that mean nothing to me,
I am certain I must be hated and disliked by many of whom I adore and cherish,
Oh how I wish this feeling would just perish,
Perish like a mess in the presence of someone with a severe case of ocd,
A case of 12 or 24 either way you get what I mean,
I am such an irritating figure with a sad face of rash doings and thoughts,
Hark,
Hark my words I say for I birth them from my heart's womb.
An anonymous girl ©

When you look at me you call me beauty,
When I hear the words, beautiful, hot, ****, dayum girl you lookin fine!
I roll my eyes like bowling ***** down the alley rolling, rolling,
Boom go the pins of thanks, thank yous and you are too kind,
Like a snake I smile and hiss and slither along and all you see is the skin I shed,
When all I wish to do when such words are used to convey and display how I portray my outer skin,
Is to scream I am NOT capital N-O-T beautiful or any  ******* such **** for it has been tattooed on my skin in deep purple mirror cracks and stained silver that I am N-O-T,
So please excuse me if I do not thank you the next time you label me these graceful words of which I am not.
An anonymous girl ©

The moon is my lover,
He and I love each other like no love there ever was nor ever will be,
I share him with many a fortunate soul,
His love sprinkled amongst all our hearts,
Yet there are millenniums where he despises me,
What love is this? I ask the moon,
The moon stares at me with an unrelenting glare,
This love is one of neither time nor rhyme nor you or I,
But of our own big bang,
Both catastrophic and melancholic yet filled with eternal bliss found and derived nowhere else by no one else,
Not even those others whom shower me with  underserving love,
No our love is a Silverstone amongst pebble rocks.
An anonymous girl ©

I was a stupid naive ******* twelve year old and I had never been taught, told or had the common sense to know about the evil that lurks in men's minds or pants,
I was ******* twelve years old when you the 22 year old man gave me the biggest bar of chocolate I had ever seen and said "shh, don't tell your mother",
I was ******* twelve when I took this as a sign that maybe just maybe you liked me the same way I liked you,
I wrote on a small piece of paper in red of course the words " I like you " and gave it to you and walked away watching your grin from afar,
I was ******* twelve and because of my naivety led me to trust you when you took my hand and guided me to an alleyway,
And as I felt a horrible sinking feeling as if something disastrous were about to happen we reached the dark shadowed spot in which you would not let me go,
My arms you held tighter than a pythons grip your body so close to mine I could hear the blood coursing through your veins and as I felt as though I were in grave danger, as though what were to transpire would change my life forever and so I tugged away and still you would not let go, I said, " let me go! " and still you would not let go,
Nearing tears and feeling panic I yanked my arms away and walked back to find my family looking for me,
I told them I had gone for a walk,
They still do not know about this and never will because if I were to tell them the label "****" "*****" "*****" would be stamped upon me and not only by them.
An anonymous girl ©

My soul is brimmed with sin draped along grainy coasts,
My heart is thrilled by whisperings of ghosts dripping lust from their tongues,
My mind is a cramped shed of shadowed thoughts wandering inside my crisp burnt skull.
An anonymous girl ©

My body is not yours to bruise with your ***** viscous words and hands that carry layers and layers of my dried up blood,
You have no right to touch my sanctuary of a body the way that you do nor do you have any right to penetrate my mind with your poisonous venom that drips from your lips like a torrential rain,
You do not have a say in what I choose to cloth my body of which I perceive with disgust no less, no more,
I shall dress my inane skin in beautiful markings not to appear different to society as you say but to be the alluring being I wish to be,
I wish for a freedom you do not provide me with,
I wish for a day where you do not persecute me for my dark desolate wandering soul for I cannot control who I am meant to be although I have tried to change my self perception for your cold, conceited statue,
Oh you do what you do so well saying what you say so drolly,
I do comprehend my pitiful soul as pitiful of course but with your pesky whispering leaving me whimpering in the dirt and space of empty nothingness,
Oh how I am such an immaculate nothingness,
A swing here, a blow there,
There goes my dented shuffle, my cardinal dropping to the stiff brute ground,
I suppose my fear is amusing to say the least,
You drink it all up as it seeps out of me as if it were my dark red blood,
Oh how you must love its bitter taste for you beg for it every destructing moment you desire with an insatiable fire,
My need for peace is oh so dire, so dire,
I soak in the fear that my death is imminent,
That it is near,
Perhaps waiting just around the corner of the road,
Waiting oh so patiently to pounce out at me,
With such delightful grinning glee,
Maybe I shall meet death in an hour, perhaps our rendezvous will take place on Monday, perhaps it shall be when I am old and creased all over,
Whenever it is I know you shall not feel an inkling of compassion or penance and I think one day I will be alright with that.
An anonymous girl ©

65kg, 70kg, 80kg, 100kg, 120kg,
And I am too fat,
Too fat,
TOO FAT,
Too fat for what exactly?
To be ******?
To have my body desecrated upon by feral beasts who could not care about my heart's weight no matter my body's weight?
To be called beautiful cos baby I know I am beautiful somewhere in this world but am I really if I am not labeled as such?
You say I should eat healthy or exercise  I could look like her, or him or her, I could ruin my body on the inside yet it is the outside you judge my ill-bitten health upon,
Perhaps if you had X-ray vision and could see through my chest cavity the pores of health I do possess would be more than obvious,
****, I am still breathing aren't I?
My heart, is it still beating?
My legs still moving,
My fingers still able to intertwine with my lovers?
Then who are you to judge me upon my " fat " ?
Who are you to make me doubt my self-worth, self-being, self-love and self-beauty with the uttering of four little insignificant yet morally diminishing words?
You are too fat.
An anonymous girl ©