If you are there,
If you love me,
Open my eyes,
So that I may see.
Let me love you,
Love you intimately.

I went to church Sunday like I always do
My Pentecostal Pastor could see right through me
He looked into my eyes and asked me
"Are you living for God Tana?"
I looked straight back at him and said
"Yes sir."

You beat me
you break me
you consume me
but what can I do?

I love it.
The pain,
the harsh grip,
the prominent shouting
and ice cold eyes
to match your icy heart.

It's not that I love it,
it's that I know it.
This kind of treatment
is all I've ever known.

Kind words,
a light touch,
and trusting eyes

I could not do that.

It's the monster inside you I fall for,
it's the sadistic ******* that chills my spine
it's the voice that says
I am yours to kick
and yours alone.

Monster who cracks the whip
and sharpens the knife,
Who leaves me black and blue,
I've never loved anything before,
so I might as well love you.

I am that creepy stare
Across the hall.
The weird laugh
In the crowd.
The shortest one
ever.
The girl who just
Wants to be happy.
The girl who looks happy
But is so empty.
Who wants to travel.
Who wants to go
To college far away.
Who wants to speak
3 languages.
Who wants to be
Famous.
Who loves a good book.
Who cries when
Sherlock dies/not.
Who smiles at the thought
Of others smiling.
Who likes older men cause
She has daddy issues.
Who has an old soul.
Who likes girls way more
Than she should.
Who writes poetry
To get her feelings
Out.
Who takes art seriously and
Tries her best not to
Make art on her wrists.
Who wants the best for
The people she loves.
Who wants to make magic
With Harry potter.
Who just wants to fit in.
Who wants to be
Happy.
Who wants to smile for
Real.
Who wants to live.

I'm sure there is more but it's 7 ******* A.M. And I'm tired as ****.
x

It is an everlasting headache,
one to torment the soul.
It is a constant throbbing of the cranium,
from which I suffer.

It is the feeling of a knife on your skin,
It is the feeling of a bat against your bones
It is the feeling of wires bound around your chest
                               squeezing till' you nearly burst.

It is the result of loneliness
It is the result of starvation
It is the result of an addiction
                            to something quite sick.

Something form the yellow of your nails
the shedding of hair
and thin skin
where veins pulse a quiet blue.

A something not many people notice,
save for their glossy eyes;
   windows to the soul they once had,
but lost, so long ago.

This is not a poem.
This is a fact.
I am alone.
I feel alone.
I do not understand the complexity of touch,
of love,
or having someone care for you.
I have a million things to say,
            a million ways to describe,
fast and jumbled together
so I'll put it simply.
           I'm alone.
           I'm alone and it hurts.
It hurts worse than happy
It hurts worse than sad
It hurts worse than anything I've ever known...
but then again,
this hurt is the only thing I've ever known.

I am so scared.
I don't know where to go.
I want to give up.
But I want to go on.
It just seems like there is no way out anymore.

I run in circles.
I wear a mask.

They see me as the happy,
Never hurting, always loving,
Perfectly okay, Christian kid.

But I'm so ******* broken.

Everyday is a battle to hide my scars.
Every morning I wipe away my tears
Before I leave the car.
I do everything and anything so
That nobody will ever see my fear.

I can't do it anymore.

Maybe today will be the day I quit.
Maybe this will be the day I give in.
Maybe tonight will be the end.

I wonder if there will be a light at the end of the tunnel.