i want to leave this life and lose myself
in these poems that tell my story better than i ever could.
i want to end this life and
sprinkle the ashes between the pages,
put them in the paper and have those words
printed on my bones.

i never want to lose these feelings.
out there it’s cold,
and even the people you love can
leave scars behind.
inside this cracked spine
my fears are laid bare;
everything i hate about myself,
everything i hide about myself.
if i could never tell the truth,
breathe these poems and let them say it for me,
i would be happy


                                                         ­                              to no longer exist.