Graces everyone with her presence,
lights up the world with her smile,

Where does the light come from?
Where does the darkness hide?

Look into her eyes
you'll find where the truth lies.

A shattered heart,
a numb soul.

Darkness lies within,
breaking her apart

Like a candle,
light is what the world will get

While she slowly melts
into her shadow.

Getting shoved into lockers
“We were just messing around”

Pushed off the playground
“I was just playing”

Crumpled paper waiting
In my backpack,
Everyone would be better with
You gone.
“It was just a joke”

Freak, Stupid,
Loser.
“It’s just a name”

It’s just some kids being kids.

Just until someone cuts,
“You’re not going to be pretty anymore”

Just until someone ties
a rope around their neck,
“Why would you do that?”

Just until you're at their funeral,
No one knowing why they died.

It’s one big just when
Nobody cares until it’s too late.

Outside I’m a bright,
golden ray of happiness,
living a life sweeter than a sʻmore.
Cheerful family of four,
laughter roaring through the house,
life filled with dreams coming true.

Yet I can hardly bear to face another day.
My only desire is nothing,
complete silence.

I wouldn’t have to pretend to feel loved,
I wouldn’t have to pretend to be happy,
I wouldn’t have to pretend to have hope,
I wouldn’t have to pretend anymore.

I wouldn’t have to feel cold, wet
tears dripping down my face
in the middle of the night,
As I gasp for air,
In my sinking pit of despair.

Complete silence is what I ask.
Void of sound,
Drifting through the starlit skies,
Finally being able to go home
To Father.

Why do I stay?
Why do I live?
Why don’t I give up?
Why don’t I die?

Reasons to stay outweigh
Reasons to go,
But one day that’s not going
To be enough.

The stench of lies,
Of smoke,
Rushes to my head.
Silver becomes red.

Attempts to feel,
Something, anything.
Futile in the end.

Only way for happiness is
A bottle of complete silence
Which comes with
the price of one’s life.

The canvas comes with roses,
beautiful, bright,
crimson roses,
shining in
moonlight.
An artist with a sharp brush,
a canvas pale as snow.
They drew
and drew
and drew.
Stroke after stroke
roses grew.
A once empty canvas
now full of
roses with white stems.
Tens turn into hundreds
as roses quickly grew.
Painting done,
the artist looks at their work,
Roses wilting
as fast as they came.
The artist cleaned up their canvas
to be ready for another day.