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 360° 
Emily Miller
My father walked me down the aisle,
But my mother held my arm.
He went with me,
But we went not towards the altar,
But towards the door.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And the ***** rang through the church,
Humming through the elaborate crown molding,
Carved by my ancestors.

He went,
Not beside me,
But before me,
And I watched,
As he was illuminated by the bright,
Overbearing,
Texas sun.

My father walked me down the aisle,
But I did not wear white.
My father walked me in silence,
And I shed tears not for a man standing at the altar,
But for the one I would never see again.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And no veil obscured my face.
All eyes were upon me, but not for my pristine beauty,
Instead for my clenched jaw and furrowed brow,
Severe and fierce to distract from my glassy eyes.

My father did not leave me at the end of our walk to sit beside my mother.
She clung to me for support and sobbed breathlessly,
Loudly,
Unavoidably,
And I carried her with one hand,
My sister the other,
And walked towards my future.
A future family,
Not one person more,
But one person less.
I walked,
One final time,
With him.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And I will never forget it.
Hundreds of eyes isolating my family from the crowd,
Slow and muffled sounds drowning in the deafening beat of my heart,
Blurred faces staring,
Black heels clacking against the cobbled path from the church,
The anguished wails of my mother,
The whimpering of my sister,
And the wooden box that glided before us,
Pulling,
A string tied to our patriarch,
The pin key of our family,
Pulled taut and then snipped with the slam of the hearse doors.

My father walked me down the aisle,
Before I had a chance to grow up.
He walked me,
Out of the church,
Away from the altar,
Never to be walked again.
 128° 
Her
My name is Erin
and i was *****
at the age of 7

it has taken me
14 years of my life
for those 13 words to escape
my hollow mouth

the only questions i come to now
is why
why lock me in that room
why take everything from me
my innocence
my purity
my childhood

in my own room
where my family trusted you
where i trusted you
the night terrors i have to this day
still haunt my mind

like a never ending
drive in movie that plays
over
and
over
only the moon in the night sky
isnt made to be found here
there is no light in these terrors

i cant sleep this time of year
because every time i do
its you
in that room
locking the door
shutting the windows
******* me
yelling at me
every single night
i close my eyes

it has taken me 14 years
to accept the fact that i was taken by you
i have been numb ever since
left in the dust
rotting away at the core
thinking i was nothing
thinking i deserved nothing
because you took everything

but not anymore
i will recover from this
i am strong enough
i believe in myself
i believe in my own happiness
and i promsie
that when i have children one day
i will never ever let them rot at the core
i will find happiness
the darkness will not take over this time
 121° 
King
If
If I die today,
Would tears flow,
like a rushing river?
Or the clouds weep,
screaming in thunder?
Would the earth break,
shaking in anger?
Will the world care?
And for a moment,
forget laughter?

If I'm down
to my final heartbeat.
Will anyone be there,
sitting beside me?
When I draw,
the very last breath.
Will you hold my hand,
and feel upset?

If I go,
without saying goodbye.
I want you to know,
that I really tried.
To live and love,
to endure and smile.
To find the truth,
in this realm of lies.

If I'm fated
of leaving soon
to talk with ***,
in his glowing room.
I'll be rejoicing,
when I face my doom.
Even I end like a flower,
that withered,
before it blooms.

If inside the casket I lay,
Would there any heaven for me to stay?
Or will my sins, demand me to pay?
Don't even know, how much this life has weighed.

If it's my time, to step on the scale.
Done of my part, in this play.
A lot of regrets,
but nothing more to say.
Wish me luck.
If I die today.
Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t just been the backseat of your car,
Intoxicated. My first drunk hook up. My first. Period.
I picture myself being champagne on Valentine’s Day.
I picture myself being you, nervous in the car, holding Starbucks
because you know I love coffee. Sometimes, I picture myself as her,
calling you a stalker and ignoring your calls,
but then I see myself. I call you beautiful,
turn you into poetry, laugh at your bad jokes,
I see myself as I become your drunk Wednesday night
when you’re sad. I see myself as I say no,
I become a “this is not a good idea”
and you a “we’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.”
We laugh because this hurts too much.
You take her out for dinner and I burrow money
for Plan B because you forgot you don’t like condoms
and clearly have no idea how children are made.
I have already named him. He has your curls and
my anxiety. He is smart. Except, I never wanted kids and
you would be a great father. Instead, you tell her
the beach reminds you of her and I cry in a McDonald’s
bathroom with my friend as relief floods through me that
the test comes negative. I stop talking to you,
move forward, meet someone new and before long
see myself becoming you. Because isn’t that the cycle?
Bad men turn good women into bad women who turn
good men into bad men. I’ll set him free so he can hurt
someone like me, and I drink red wine as I read her
poems about him and me.
 77° 
clever
It just rained
Bullets
Puddles in the streets
Blood
Water falls down
Tears
 64° 
Morgan Brehilt
Sometimes I think of killing myself
How the end would be so nice
How the darkness would swallow me up
And how the numbness would suffice
My need

For all the voices of the feelings
That constantly keep me reeling
To softly slow to a hush
As my brain starts tur-tur-turning into mush

How wonderful it would be
To have that powerful silence
Not even grasshoppers would bother
To wake me

My cells would stop dividing
My brain would stop the lying
Myself would stop denying
What I truly want

But but but
This is just a reckless fantasy
A way to elude one’s own reality

Because as I sit here on the floor
Tears drip drip dropping
I realize there’s those who care for me more
Cherish me more
Love me more
Than I love my own self

The crickets chirp
I put the pills down
 62° 
Leviathan Andrew
If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone.

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.
The state of Florida is now home to the two most deadly mass shootings in American history. Pulse Nightclub was attacked in my city, I have friends who attend Marjory Stoneman Douglas in Parkland. My little sister often fears going to school. I'm afraid to graduate and leave her. I want to be able to protect her if something happens. I hate that we have a reason to be afraid... That it's reasonable to have these fears. I hate it so f*cking much.
 50° 
alanie
i broke us

like the glass i dropped
we shattered
and the pieces were left behind
to scar when i think of you

every time
the shards pierce my steps
i remember
how beautiful we were
but we burnt too bright
then
we burnt out

maybe
i should clean up the broken glass
I made a follow up to this poem!! click on my page and check it out!! its called "bent pages"
 49° 
Meera
He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come
That's how true poetry comes into existence
 40° 
Abi Cash
It controls her
She can't stop it
It's a constant battle
She can't drop it

It has become a habit
She can't quit
It's taking over her body
Bit by bit

The scars fade
But the memories don't
She wants them to leave
But they refuse.. They won't

It's an on going battle.
It's a fight she never wins
It's a constant struggle
It's a war that never ends

It's her sweet escape
It gets her lost in her own place
She gets to control the pain
As her adrenaline starts to race

She grabs it off the dresser
As a tear falls from her cheek
She presses even harder
Reminding herself not to shriek

No one understands
No one ever will
This habit now controls her
As the world around her stands still

But now the room is spinning
Her head is getting light
She falls back in her bed
Refusing to put up a fight

She takes one last breath as she turns out the lights
Then she closes her eyes as she calls it a night
No one ever understands my scars
 39° 
Grand Piano
Step 1: Get out of bed
Step 2: Look in the mirror
Step 3: Practice your smile
Step 4: Eyedrops to hide the red eyes
Step 5: Conceal the dark circles
Step 6: Breathe
The curtains are almost up
Step 7: Lock down the pain
Step 8: Ignore the weight on your chest
Step 9: Silence the screams inside of your mind
Step 10: Choke down the sobs in your throat
Step 11: Ignore the stinging in your eyes
Step 12: Swallow past the tightness in your throat
You’ve put on this show a million times
Step 13: Don’t let them see
Times up. Curtains up. Camera rolling
You know how when you’re not ok but you try so hard to pretend you’re ok that it becomes a ritual
 35° 
Simoné
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
 31° 
abby
We are the ones who are hard to understand
We'll be the last ones in the movie theatre
because the ending scene made us cry
We'll stop to smell the roses
because they deserve to be appreciated
We are the ones who will take the time
to get to know what keeps you up at night
We are the ones who will imagine
an entire future of adventures
with the people who show us love

We are the ones who will love you more
than we love ourselves sometimes
We will give you our strongest parts
in hopes that we can make things better
We desire to see you become the best you
to make sure that you always feel our love
We crave affection and appreciation
We give a piece of ourselves away every day
sometimes to people who don't deserve it
Our love is easy to take advantage of
and sometimes we don't get back
the love that we give away

When we hurt, we crumble and fall apart
We constantly have to put ourselves back together
We are more fragile than we like to give off
We carry our emotions on our sleeves
Our flaws have the ability to consume us
We aren't afraid to give you the world
but we are afraid to feel unloved
We want you to see what we see
We want you to understand where we're coming from

We are good people with good intentions
We are stronger than we look like
Not everyone can feel the way we feel
We feel too much, too often
We are not hard to love
We are something not everyone knows how to love
But you need to remember that
your worth does not change just because
no one is there to appreciate you, to remind you

You are not any less lovable
You are the most lovable person in the world
You are a light that the world needs
Your kindness is not your weakness
You do not need to change for anyone's acceptance
You do not need to stop giving love
just because you don't get any back
Your heart is the best thing about you

And one day when you least expect it
someone will notice you from across the room
and know exactly how to love you
They will think all of these things are beautiful
They will deserve the love you can give
They will fill the empty space in your heart
But for now, don't stop feeling
We are the ones who feel everything so deeply
We are the ones who can't give up because
We are the ones who will teach the world
how to love
We are exactly who we are supposed to be
 28° 
Delusional13
You are saying I am cruel
I bet you even care
Yes I am rude and also somewhat mean
Because I am a thunderous sea trying to calm the hurricane of your betrayal going inside me
You think I won't know
You are the one spreading the rumours
Thank you for sharing with the world your opinion of me

I was not like this before
It's you who ridiculed me
Making my already hard life a miserable mess
It's you who forced my mind
To shut the windows of my heart on everyone's face
I lost happiness as joy left me alone
In mending the broken hearts I was late
In joining the shattered pieces of friendships I failed
I want to thank you sincerely for making my life a living ****

You ignored me, isolated me
Burning my already suffered soul like an ignited coal
I could do nothing as hope left me
Turning me into a dark black hole
You knew what I was going through
Yet you left me saying you were tired of my demons
Thank you I never knew promises were meant just for a show

But how can you call me a ****** now
Telling everyone I am not good
Telling me I am isolated for a reason
Who made this worse
Think you should
I regret ever talking to you
I don't know why I shared my deepest darkest secrets only with you
Thank you for making me sorry for trusting you

You had promised you would help me
You said it was okay that I was okay
What happened then?
Why did you abandon me?
You took everyone that were close to me
Spread all the lies you want
No one is left anyway
But thank you for making me realise
That the battles I fight make me stronger than coward people like you

A loner an outcast
My life's never-ending cycle
It's my story my secret
I am the soul of a lonely dead girl
Betrayal hurts because it's something we never expect from the one we trust the most
 26° 
cecilia
you said
you were afraid
to lose me
and then you
faced your fears
and left
 24° 
Undone
I walked to school today

Knowing I cried myself to sleep last night

Knowing no one knew

Knowing that was my power that I owned over everyone else
I don't want someone to save me, I want someone to hold me as I save myself.
 21° 
Rose
Today we had a fight.
I’m not sure how it started,
Or who raised their voice first.
All I know is that now I have bruises.
Ones that sting when you touch them.
You tried to apologize.
You tried to clean me up,
And make me feel better.
But bruises take time to heal.
And so do cuts and scratches.
I can’t forgive you right now.
But the bruises will heal soon.
And then all will be better.
Because I can’t be mad at you.
Maybe if I had kept my mouth shut then we wouldn’t be like this.
Maybe if I wasn’t so sensitive then we wouldn’t have these problems.
Today we had a fight and I’m not sure where it started.
All I know is that I have bruises and cuts and scratches.
That could have been avoided,
If I just kept my mouth shut.
3-14-18
 18° 
She Writes
**** doesn’t always hide
At parties and outside clubs
**** doesn’t always hide
In dark alleys and empty parking lots
Sometimes it is right in front of you
But you choose to look the other way
**** doesn’t always hide
Behind the faces of strangers in the night
Sometimes it is hiding behind the closed doors
Of your uncles
Cousins
Fathers
And brothers
**** isn’t always loud-
Screaming, yelling, and crying
Sometimes **** is quiet-
Gasping for air and silent tears
 18° 
Hayden
Me
No food
No sleep
I can't let these things reach out and speak sweet lies
I can't let food call my name
I can't let sleep drown my thoughts

I shouldn't eat
I can't sleep

This is me

I am broken girl
Who can't eat
In fear I weigh too much

I am a broken girl who can't sleep
For my thoughts and memories
Haunt me too much

I am a broken girl who answers 'how are you?'
With 'I'm alright' even when I'm not even close
Because I don't want you to worry
I don't want you to fret
Over a broken soul

I am a broken girl who says 'I have been busy'
when someone asks me why I haven't done something
I have been busy just not in the way they think
I have been busy trying not to give into hunger
I have been busy fixating on how I'm broken
I have been busy
But not in the way they think

I am a broken girl who has let her demons
creep up on her too much

I am a broken girl who has surrendered
her soul

I am a broken girl who dates so she feels
worth something because I don't when I'm alone

I date because I need to depend on someone
Because I am not dependable for anyone
Let alone myself

I date so I can hear someone say I love you
So I can hear someone call me beautiful
Cute
Amazing
And so many other things
Even if I don't believe it

I am a broken girl who has lost so many relationships
Five to death
And so many others just because they left
I was no longer good enough
No longer happy enough
No longer
PRETENDING

I am a broken girl who pretends
And when I stop people leave

Because I am too broken

I am too clingy

I am too demanding

I'm just not enough

Or I'm too much

THIS IS ME

But no one sees
Until I let them

And when I do they worry

But please don't worry
Because you didn't when you didn't know
So why worry now?

I'm still the same me
You just couldn't see all the flaws that my eyes do

You don't see the way I do

I see a girl who's eyes are too big

I see a girl who isn't thin enough

I see a girl who's hair doesn't suit her no matter what

I see a girl with too many scars

I see a girl
But I don't

For all I can see now is a walking flaw

And no one knows that
THIS IS ME
April/ 19/ 2018/ 10:19 AM
 14° 
Cassian
Dad
You always point out every flaw dad
Always reminding me of everything I do wrong
You never cared how I felt dad
Always comparing me to someone else
I already know how ****** I am dad
Believe me I’ve been told thousands of times
That’s why I want to move away from you
You’ve made me feel alone dad
While still saying you’re my friend
I cared but you didn’t
That was my problem I accept responsibility for that
But the hardest part about letting go is that
I’ll never hear you running after me
Deep into the cold
 14° 
September Rose
How do I write in a poem that I am
        S C R E A M N G
How do I convey how  f r u s t r a t e d I am
How do I get you to know how
      o              u       i          g
c         n              s        n
                  f
        my mind is right now
How do I explain my writings of a crumbling sanity as poetic licence
      It becomes easy when nobody knows your how much of concealed life you really have
    
           My mother can't worry, She doesn't have such terrible thoughts


The bullets I try to use just ricochet around my skull blending my memories, rattling my thoughts.
My personality has died with my will to live
 14° 
Keller
Every time I get comfortable
Without you
You show up again.

Every time I get used to sleeping
By myself
You crawl into my bed.

Every time I fall in love
With you,
You leave me again.
The way we love hurts my heart.
 13° 
E Lynch
It arrives,
Unnoticed, unannounced.

Quiet,
At first.

Slow,
Seeping, dripping.

I put it down to a few stressful weeks.
I carry on.

It unpacks,
Worries, anxieties.

Gently,
For now,

Tiptoes,
Whispers, creaks.

‘It will leave soon’ I think ‘It always does.’
I keep going.

It settles in,
Getting comfortable.

Getting louder,
And louder.

Banging thoughts,
Insomnia.

‘Please don’t be happening again’.
I shuffle along my daily routine.

Claws in,
Insidious.

Screaming,
24/7.

Shame, worthlessness,
Hurt.

‘Please go away’.
I’m barely coping.

Growing roots,
Into my brain and heart.

Blossoming pain,
With every beat.

Emptiness, loneliness,
Abandonment.

Silence, Stillness,
‘I can’t move, I can’t cope.’
 10° 
Pablo Neruda
My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.

Some day I'll join him right there,
but now he's gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I'll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.

Ai, I'll not speak of sadness here on earth,
of having lost a companion
who was never servile.
His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine
withholding its authority,
was the friendship of a star, aloof,
with no more intimacy than was called for,
with no exaggerations:
he never climbed all over my clothes
filling me full of his hair or his mange,
he never rubbed up against my knee
like other dogs obsessed with ***.

No, my dog used to gaze at me,
paying me the attention I need,
the attention required
to make a vain person like me understand
that, being a dog, he was wasting time,
but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
he'd keep on gazing at me
with a look that reserved for me alone
all his sweet and shaggy life,
always near me, never troubling me,
and asking nothing.

Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
as we walked together on the shores of the sea
in the lonely winter of Isla Negra
where the wintering birds filled the sky
and my hairy dog was jumping about
full of the voltage of the sea's movement:
my wandering dog, sniffing away
with his golden tail held high,
face to face with the ocean's spray.

Joyful, joyful, joyful,
as only dogs know how to be happy
with only the autonomy
of their shameless spirit.

There are no good-byes for my dog who has died,
and we don't now and never did lie to each other.

So now he's gone and I buried him,
and that's all there is to it.
 10° 
Druzzayne Rika
White was it in the end
no colour, no
the pale skin
an uneasy peace
frightened with shadows
what in the end it came as white
a stream of light
in the night.

Changed what could not be
disturbed yet still
alive to see the shine
the sun, this morning
cheerful to come with all the might
the end of darkness
but then the life left.

White moon flowers in the garden
wilted after fighting the night
all remains was
the feeling of the defeat
prominent after the victory
all the black dressed gathered
speaking kind words
of how she won the night
and died despite.
 10° 
Zoie Marie Lynn
i’ve never fallen in love before
but i’m telling you
if i did,
my bones would screech and creak and ***** to build you a home that doesn’t fight back
and
i would shower you with love until you drowned because i don’t know how to love unless it becomes too much someway or somehow
and
you would become all that i breathe and need and see and the very sound of your name would be enough to cause another relapse
because i’ll get addicted too soon and too fast and you’ll think it’s great
at first
until i’m publicly on my knees aching for your velvet kisses back
and
i've never cared for someone this way before
but i'm telling you
if i did,
my lungs would collapse and inflate again and again because you will be the only thing i'll ever breathe in
and
the people in my life would never amount to you, and maybe that's a little messed up but i wrote it
felt it
bled it, so it must be true
because i don't know how to let someone in unless i push every other person out and you'll love my attention
at first
until
you're throwing glass plates at my following figure
until
you're yelling regrets and things i should've considered
until
you hate me
because you don't want to be the only one
even if i want you to be.
i’ve danced with the devil because he has the prettiest eyes i’ve ever seen in my life
but i didn’t love him
i’ve kissed the hands of *** because he smells like my childhood home and i liked that a lot
but i didn’t love him
i’ve cut open my skin for my first girlfriend because she promised to stay and that drove me insane
but i didn’t love her
and i’m telling you
if i did
i would write a poem convincing her that i didn’t
because i’ve never loved in a way that doesn’t became some form of a burden.
and i don’t love you
yet
but i am going to scrub my words into your ***** body and i am going to promise that there’s nobody
but you
and you are going to love every second of it
because you’ve given in to destruction and seduction and you already understand everything about pain
you already know there’s everything to lose and i’m the only thing you’d gain
but that’s okay
because you’ve never fallen in love before.
i've been beaten and bruised but nothing hurts more than you
 8° 
grace
I opened my eyes.
My limbs were stiff and my body was sore.
My vision was blurred;
Brain groggy and confused.
I stretched and felt pain in my hips.
Pain in my neck and arms and shoulders.
I looked around the space that I was in.
They were on either side of me.
I was cold and bare, displayed for everyone to see.
I gathered my clothes and left.
The sun was just rising on this cold December day.
The air was biting cold;
I could feel it stabbing my legs through my jeans.
Though my house was only a mile up the road,
I thought it would take years to get there.
It was surely below zero.
My bruised body and sore muscles
moved slowly.
I was freezing,
my brain was fogged over and unable to function properly.
Finally I had made it to my front door.
It was unlocked, and I knew enough to know that that was odd.
I stumbled in, frozen hands thawing in the heat.
My mom was at the table;
she waited for me to come home.
She asked where I was.
I panicked.
"Andrea's," I said.
She shrugged and went back to bed.
I went downstairs to my room and sat down on my bed.
My mind finally became more clear,
but I didn't know what had happened.
I tried to think but I could remember nothing.
All I knew is that something felt very wrong.
It felt like I had been violated.
My hips and thighs hurt with every move.
My arms were bruised,
my legs were bruised.
I was bleeding.
Something very wrong and terrible had happened.
I knew it, but I didn't know exactly what.
I started to cry.
I started to panic.
I ran to my bathroom and took a shower.
I told myself that I was fine.
The hot water boiled through my skin to my bones.
I must have been in there for an hour.
The whole time, I cried.
I threw out the clothes I was wearing
hoping my mom wouldn't find them in the trash outside.
"If you ever tell anyone, you'll be sorry."
They told me at school after break.
I moved to East Troy after that, taking what I remembered
and burying it deep down
inside my brain.
I denied it for a long while.
Denied it through my relationship with Mark,
who only made everything worse.
I'm dealing with it now,
but the details are still a little groggy.
And because I'm starting now to remember,
it gives me terrible gut-wrenching anxiety.
Even though I know I'm safe and I will not be hurt again.
It puts a strain on things sometimes. Like my relationship, I feel as though Brandon thinks that this is so foreign. I fear that my damaged emotional psyche might be too much for him to handle at times. He wouldn't leave unless there was probable cause, but it's still something that I fear from time to time. I hate this.
 8° 
Jordan Miller
I just want to die
please           end
it                  for
me                it
is                   the
way to be happy

          It


         is
         better
         this
         way

I cant handle it
please
it
is
better this way
Im
sorry
for
being a disappointment
 8° 
abbey
the words spilled from her mouth

here i sit,
as my best friend,
tells me
you have another.

i shouldn’t care.
but i do.

no matter how hard i try,
the poetry for you in which i write,
never ceases.
it just keeps pouring out of my soul.
it sometimes seems as if,
the poetry i write for you is what keeps my heart beating.
what keeps me breathing.

but now, what am i supposed to do?
her?
seriously?
do you think she will love you?
do you really think she will love you?
please tell me.

it’s hard to think of you with another
because we used to be so in love with each other.

it’s been a long time since we last spoke,
but it feels as if all the memories of us i have were just made yesterday.

you have another.
who will never,
ever,
love you in the way i could.

but my question for you is,
will you love her in the way you could towards me?
 8° 
Ashly Kocher
Hello?
Can you hear me?
I’m down here...
6 feet under...
Not where I’m suppose to be
You come and visit me
Everyday
I hear you constantly pray
To talk to me again
Hold my hand
Hug me tight
Well I’m right here
I hear everything you say
I cry with you
I laugh with you
I pray with you
I am always with you
Even from 6 feet under
I AM HERE
I pray myself
To heal your pain
Dry your eyes
Help you move on
Don’t forget me
You know where I am
Always in your heart
Forever your friend
I will continue to grow old with you
Until we meet again
When we walk together in the sky
Holding each others hands
For now I stay
6 feet underground
Loving you
Praying with you
Hearing your voice
As I lay in silence
6 feet underground...
Wrote this from the perspective of a person who has passed away and what they see and feel everyday....
 7° 
A
Mirror mirror on the wall
Am I too short? Am I too tall?  
Mirror mirror do you care?
About my clothes, About my hair?
Mirror mirror can you see?
The perfect woman I'm obsessing to be

Too skinny, too fat,
Too frumpy when I'm sat,
Untamed messy hair
Too pale when I'm bare
Circles beneath my eyes
Out of proportion for my size
Forever appearing rough
Will I ever be good enough?


Mirror mirror you ignite self rejection,
Every single time I judge my reflection
Mirror mirror I think that you lied
As you never reflect the beauty inside.
I hate mirrors. I honestly do. I think everyone has felt like this at some point, I tried to end it on a positive note, but I'll still continue hating mirrors- ******* mirror.
-A
X
 6° 
September Rose
Oh sickly poisonous flame
Darting back and forth
I hear you call my name
It's not what they think, for what it's worth

One slip of the finger
And a tingling sensation
Smells of gas linger
Now for use of personification:

Its seems that you love me
For you never let me go
I feel pitiful in your embrace
And it seems that you know

You always take control
And oh how I'm fascinated by your flame
Skin swells and pain holds
In this endless torture game
 6° 
September Rose
Does my life want to end itself
I know I'm not one to have these thoughts given a bubbly personality
But every day it seems my life drifts farther from reality
I cry
I scream
      to no one

Maybe if they find me leaking out the back of my skull
They will look back to find signs they know would tell
But there were no signs
I'm that good


Every waking moment tests my grip
As my eyes twitch my mind slips

I've lived a life of shattered smiles
Broken songs
****** up lies
But I put back the pieces so well every morning no one can tell
I'm that good
For all worried
I'll tell you don't worry
It's just poetic
 5° 
Jay
I'M MAKING nachos in your toaster oven. The chips fall in the pan without a problem. Beans, evenly distributed (if I do say so myself.) Salsa- good to go. Then the cheese. Generic brand shredded cheese blend. I dangle my (washed) fingers into the zip-lock bag, grab a generous pinch and rain mild cheddar down on my gourmet meal. And I feel the tears building. "No," my conscious scolds, "you will not cry over shredded cheese." I add another pinch for flavor, then another to assert dominance. I slide the pan into the tiny oven- triumphant! But the next task breaks me. I freeze when I try to adjust the heat setting. I hear your voice so clearly, like you're still calling from the next room: "you have to press the TOAST button, it cooks much faster."  The tears start to roll. I think about how excited you were when cheese bubbled perfectly- "just a little brown, ever so slightly crispy." We would joke about your persnickety preferences, likely a product of your superior taste. Of course, you would have appreciated anything I made for you, but it was always better when the dish matched the idea in your head...when I made it like you would have made it (if you were only well enough to cook for yourself again.) In the present, I poke the TOAST button and flee the kitchen as to not cry in front of the smothered chips. I sit on the sofa and break down, gasping in childish sobs. "I miss her," I wail to an empty house. Warm tears coat my cheeks in the air-conditioned room. I feel so small. I feel so foolish for crying over ******, little things. I feel so... so... A bell dings in the kitchen. I wipe my sleeve across my face and traipse back to the toaster. Hand into oven mitt, mitt onto pan, pan onto table. I grab the plastic tubs of sour cream and guacamole from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer that sticks a little when you try to open it. I pick the non-wilted bits off the head of lettuce and rinse them under the faucet. I finish the recipe. I pull out a chair. I sit down to nachos for one.
Grief is such a strange emotion/process.

*Oh my! Thank you all so much for your support! I wrote this back in June when I needed to get it out of my head and had no idea it was chosen as a daily until I just logged back on and thought there was a glitch with my notifications number. I was slightly mortified that a piece of my mourning got exposure but after reading your comments I'm glad that I documented something many of you identified with. I've since journeyed a bit farther in my grief- slowly overcoming my initial instinct of trying to instantaneously analyze every feeling to determine whether I'm "allowed" to have it. I went to a group bereavement meeting offered by the hospital that treated the loved one in this poem and the nurse running the session made a good point- no one can fully understand another person's relationship with an individual who's passed on. Interpersonal relationships are unique and so is grieving. Being gentle with yourself (especially in times of struggle) is woefully underrated. And with that, I send love, gratitude, and positive vibes to this wonderful community
 5° 
Taylor
may 24, 2017
last suicide attempt
everyone blamed you
it was him
he hurt you
why do you even talk to him still?

you were never the reason
you broke up with me that night
and i snapped
the only thing that kept me happy
left
and i had
zero reason to
live

it was never your fault...
 4° 
Chloe
Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
Familiar. Comforting.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.
DISCLAIMER: This is only from my personal point of view and how my battle with depression has been. Even though I am trying to recover, the battle gets very difficult for me sometimes and I have to remind myself that I am not my mental illness. My mental illness does not define me.
 4° 
Woody
I still dream of my father
crossing the pastures
on his one-eyed tractor
mowing acres of sorrow
heading east of a moon
that'll be gone tomorrow
turning one last time as
if to say: so long my son
there’s going to be days
of sunshine and plenty
more of rain as he went
along his way, and my
sadness waved back like
grain in fields of long past
summers and summers
before that, so long a time
ago I can remember only
on lonely nights of heat
lightning and the low
rumble of distant thunder.
A nice surprise on this Monday evening.  Thank you all very much for your reading and very nice comments. Please know that I appreciate all of you and your kind words. Thank you.

* To Ravinder Kumar Soni: Opinion entitled to and noted. Thanks for taking the time to read.
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