to the ocean during low tide
so i can race with Mother Nature
gritty, soft, exfoliating sand beneath my calloused feet
i'm going to win this one
mother's sea spray has nothing on me
i'm going to dance out here for a while
my feet know the way back
i feel at home
in the water
-z.z

hearing sound for the first time after not knowing it for years
because i'm selfish
fooled myself into thinking
i didn't need to hear
to know what you are saying
i can get by with reading your lips
i can even hear
what you aren't saying

there are 365 days in a year
1,095 days in three
60 seconds in a minute
525,600 minutes in a year
26,280 hours in three

i heard you
maybe
once or
twice

i thought
"middle school is just a bunch of drama it's okay if i tune out for a while"
i thought
"high school is just a waste of time"
i don't need to hear the melodramatics and fights

when i went in for my yearly hearing check-ups with the audiologist
she asked me if i'd been wearing my hearing aides
i said no
rolled my eyes
and tuned out her lecture on losing the ability to speak

it has been three years
four if i'm being truthful
i'm relearning language in a way i've never known language
silence is so ******* loud
i can hear the plips and plinks of water droplets bouncing off of porcelain
in the bathroom, two rooms away

sound is vibrating in front of me like
i'm watching a movie of sound again
maybe i'll be able to turn off the closed captions
or maybe i'll keep them
people are hard to understand sometimes
even with dialogue running along the bottom of the screen

i like what i'm hearing but just in case there's ever a time
when words are a bit too sharp and on the verge of hurting me
i'll know to turn the volume down instead of taking
my ears
out.
-
-z.z

the other day an online friend told me I was one of the most positive people they knew
how amazing it is that i can speak to someone's needs when they didn't realise they needed it the most
that's my internet smile speaking
telling people they can do it and oozing sunshine and rainbows out of pores I didn't even know existed
when in reality all I want scratch that need is for someone to tell me my struggles are not all in my head.
if you could see my face you'd see my Internet smile and eyes on the verge of flooding.

There is so much I want to tell you. How not fine and super awesome I've been. How most nights I cry into my pillow, wondering what it would be like to just stop living
I want to ask you how I got here, as if you could tell me the exact coordinates of the place I fell from the face of the earth but I know
you are asking yourself the exact same question
how are we surviving in a world that's constantly trying to bring us down

why is it that every time I see something good
my memory erases it faster than I can blink its like
I am hardwired to not feel happy
I want to tell you about the panic I felt when I misplaced my blade
I want to tell you how when I found a new one i could breathe again even though I told you I'd stop
I'm not using them but I still want to tell you about the urges
the tingling sensation in the tips of my fingers I get when I don't
how I forget how to breathe the moment I need oxygen the most how my lungs feel like fire in a drought-stricken desert this is what dying must feel like
what does laughter sound like?

some days I wake up feeling numb from my head to toe it hurts so much
when i can't remember why i'm still here i think about how you reacted when i told you i couldn't keep on going
somehow i find courage in the cracks of your voice you wanted me here
and so i'll stay
i'll hang on the best i can though my hands are sweaty and my fingers might slip and some days my arms feel like brittle sticks about to snap in two
i'm not going to let go yet

i want to tell you that in the dark hours of the night right before the clock strikes 12 i see you everywhere and i'm so sorry i am so sorry for breaking Us
i want to tell you how much i miss you
ask if you feel the same
i wish things were the way the used to be i'll tell you
but I won't tell you any of this
I've got an internet smile
and an "I'm fine" when you ask for it
whether they are lies or the truth, I hope to guarantee you will never
find
out

when it comes right down to it
peace speaks a language the deaf can hear
the blind can feel
and compels you, me, all of us
to feel something

we are not broken

i'm reaching my hand out to the pages on my computer screen
touching the profile pictures and updates
emma has marked herself safe during the paris attacks
i watched the colours of the paris flag flood my screen
like a ripple across the vast waters

we are one
who knows what the future holds for tomorrow
for today
we will be strong in unity

don't tell her she'll be okay.

new year's eve
trying to forget
trying to erase
music was blaring
or maybe it was the laughter
yes, this year will be different
the clock stroke 12
flakes began to fall
in a land where snow is rare
some made snowballs
others watched while i
stood in the middle of the road
waiting for a new
beginning

wind below, sky above
rain is a falling that i love
earthy flesh come anew
torrents destroy the battered and bruised
rejuvenate my soul, be free!
run rampant, shout, proclaim with glee
let thy happiness explore
what nature's beauty beholds once more
-
-z.z

for the longest time i've been trying to figure out
what it is exactly that you see in me
i've been beating myself up over things you say are beautiful
don't fret, darling it will be okay
pain cannot be healed by four airless words
i wear labels because for some odd reason i like the way they look
you keep trying to peel them off
why do you keep believing in what society says is beautiful?
quit trying to change me i don't remember who that girl was stop it i'm not her anymore
you were never her but she is you and i love her. i love you
i am not beautiful
i am not whole
*no, you're you.

i know that some day
i will cease to exist
all these poems will be hidden in places i can’t remember
maybe someone will think to look but won’t come up with enough pieces to see the whole girl
my facebook profile will remain like the messed up diary of some girl who tried to write but couldn’t
my twitter account will be airless thoughts in 160 characters or less
and my tumblr will be subtle signs that say in fact no, i wasn’t okay, but thank you for liking my poetry posts
no one is going to think to look inside my head where the things that matter will be forgotten
maybe
they wouldn’t want to look or shouldn’t look because there isn’t anything beneath the face that never smiled
there isn’t truth hiding in the veins that shown through iridescent skin
they’re not going to think to look at me
inside of me
my collection of books will be boxed up and maybe taken to bookmans or goodwill
they’re not going to think to look inside those books to see my scribbles in the margins
i’m a fighter
i don’t know how long i’ll be around for but i know that despite my best efforts to change something into something bigger, someone else into someone,
i will be forgotten
so let this be another poem that you will read and forget about
maybe it got published or maybe its still sitting in a cardboard home
this is proof that i lived
don’t tell me it’s not enough because i’m sick of never being enough
i wouldn’t like to think that my life was for nothing
so take my words
to heart because darling,
you will be forgotten too
-
-z.z

i don’t know why they keep telling me
broken wings cannot fly
because i’ve seen more brokenness fill the skies
than wholeness every occupied
when feathers float tear soaked
feet push off of the ground
gravity has got nothing on me
i may be broken but i’m ******* free

every last word
was for you
those that i
didn’t know how
couldn’t ever say
i was always
afraid how do
i do this
me and you
so i never
showed you my
other other side
i’m not ready
for the trainwreck
i’ll inevitably cause
my thoughts derail
hold me prisoner
going full speed
she’s so real
she’s always there
she doesn’t exist
she’s my friend
she is me
this is me
i love us
i really meant
every last word
-
-z.z

maybe i'm crazy
or maybe i'm a poet
you know they tell me you can't tell the first sign of going mental when its yourself
but i have oceans inside of me
and every time i cry i wish i could be a tsunami
or a hurricane
its not that i fancy destruction but rather
i like a nice clean slate
i like
second and third and fourth chances
i like you
that should be music to your ears because I
chuckle
i don't like many people
yet if it is music then it must sound god-awful
because every time i tell you
you cover your ears and scream
they did tell me i was mental
but i bet you didn't hear that either

there are too many times when i feel alone.
i could be in a room surrounded by people
and not know a single one or rather
pretend i don’t know a single one
i worry about being a bother
am i annoying you yet sorry i’ll
stop
i’m lonely i’m alone i’m so sorry i’m alone i’mlonelyi’malonei’msosorryi’m–
okay. hi. who are you?
you are lonely too?
goodbye. see you soon.

I can’t count all the stars in the sky
because every time I try I stop to see if I can connect the dots to form something bigger that might have more meaning than
the number I stopped counting on
twenty seven
fourty two
seventy nine
eight
three
two
one
zero
When I was a little girl, my momma would sing me this rhyme
I see the moon and the moon sees me,
God bless the moon and God bless me
we’d look for the big dipper and think up a soup to serve to the man in the moon
I’d serve it to him and look for his smile
he’d tell me he loved it and as I fell asleep
I’d count the stars until Mr. Sandman took me away
Tonight, when I started counting
I thought I could see your face
And what a funny thought to think
because lately I’ve only seen you in dreams
you were sitting on the floor, playing with my clothes like you used to
Remember that?
you’d go through my closet and pull the pieces that I’ve kept around for ages
though they had their time long ago
you pranced around the room with every item on like you were the faerie godmother of the worst dressed
you topped the outfit off with the tutu I wore in my 3rd grade ballet recital
it didn’t matter that I loved that tutu more than anything in the world
or that you looked better in it than I ever did
it didn’t matter that the tutu was the brightest neon orange your eyes ever squinted at
you wore it with pride while I wore it because you told me to
it didn’t matter that at your funeral when everyone else placed their favorite baseball cards and caps in your casket, I plopped the tutu down at your waist
where it belonged
it didn’t matter that I had a fit when your mother said I couldn’t give you my tutu because it wasn’t who you were
it didn’t matter that you couldn’t be buried with it
it didn’t matter then
it won’t matter later
and it still doesn’t matter
because it wasn’t “who you were”
I didn’t care
I never cared because
when you love someone unconditionally
the little things, the big things like
skin colour
face shape
income
hair colour
****** orientation
height
personality
tutu preference
become irrelevant
Twenty seven
the number of times you drunk texted me
Fourty two
the number of times you were forced to watch the Sunday game
Fourty two
the number of times you called me crying about being forced to watch the Sunday game
Seventy nine
the number of times you said
i would be better off dead, yes
Seventy nine
it would be better if I were dead
Eight
the number of hours I spent videochatting with you on Skype trying to convince you not to do it
Three
the number of words in the last text you sent
“I’m done here”
Two
the number of times you said you wished you were straight
Two
the number of times I said I didn’t care that you weren’t
One
the number of tears that slid down your dad’s face at your funeral
Zero
beats missed

i'm afraid of rejection
re-jec-shun
loving someone with every ounce of my being
only to be tossed aside like
I don't know, a fly?
that homework that I forgot to do?
a battered book or picture that means nothing anymore?
i'm afraid of what it means
that something I liked had an ending
and that I saw the ending
you're not supposed to see
the ends of things
I don't know why i'm afraid
of something I know
so well
I shouldn't be afraid
of an acquaintance
but I am
deathly afraid
of rejection

Fifty. Five. Minutes. Until Shut Down.
Fifty. Five. Minutes. Until Shut Down.

Rain is falling softly but the only pitter patter I hear tonight comes from the sound of my fingers flying frantically over keys as I try to make out one last message before the screen goes dark

Guys, I don’t know what to do
I--

11:11. Freezing. All. Activity.
Moment of Silence. For All Who Didn’t. Make It.
11:11. Freezing. All Activity.

Hate 11:11
We know.
Why does the internet insist on The Moment Of Silence for Lost Souls? Do I really need the constant reminder that I ****** everything up??

Forty. Five. Minutes. Until Shut Down.
Forty. Five. Minutes. Until Shut Down.

You’ll be okay. Here. Read this.
http://dryyoureyes-startbelieving.tumblr.com/post/112628324066
I won’t sleep tonight
You don’t have to

Twenty. Five. Minutes. Until Shut Down.
Twenty. Five. Minutes. Until Shut Down.

Time is fading faster than the sun set this evening. My hands are trembling. What do I have to do to slip into the Interface of the Internet?

They told me it has been done before. Except that they never make it back. When the doors shut and the screens go black, the late night insomniacs grow restless.

Do you hear that pounding?
That is us, trying to get back into the Doors.
That is us, trying to revive
**ourselves.

she’s memorized numbers and held onto them like they are her lifeline
like the time she memorized the poem by edna st Vincent millay because it was the first piece of emotion that made her feel
but when she picks up the phone to press the keys with trembling fingers
the voices tell her
“no one wants to hear you complain about your oh-so-horrible life”
so she sets the phone down
and takes a shaky breath in
and a shaky breath out
oh its fine, I’m okay
that’s what she tells herself
when she’s too tired to fill up empty spaces with justifications and excuses and
the truth

Free the man who lived a life behind bars of silence
Words will be his key to salvation and a life of peace
Let him know he carries a heavy burden when they are by his side
For words are arrows,
Sharpened by cruelty and a rotting mind
Dulled by misuse
Can you really hide?
Words can crumble
To reveal the face behind
The lips that spoke the verses of lies
The mouth that roared when it could no longer cry
What about the hands that trembled through all
Anger, sorrow, new life, not loss
The teeth that sparkled in malicious grins
Slowly slid behind ashen cracked curtains

I have made myself into this person to justify for why I am not that person

it's okay. i never liked people anyways
"did you ever think maybe the bullies had something to do with it?"
maybe but i've never been a big people person. who can tell anymore?

black is a nice colour
"why?"
it is all the colours and none of the colours
"do you think this might be because all the other colours were taken and you wanted to be different?"
no, it's because i find it beautiful how a colour that dark can be the background for a bright life

"why don't you like music?"
i prefer the silence
"but music speaks louder than silence"
i beg to differ. silence speaks louder than words.
"how so?"
you don't notice how loud silence is until the music fades out

i am okay with who i am
"is it because you have had to be okay with that or are you hiding?
you're not really okay, are you? how could you be okay you practically made up a life out of justifications"
*i am okay with who i am.

this poem is for you
remember all those nights
no
remember all those days
that you spent with your head towards the sky?
when you met the mailman at the door
knowing it would just be junkmail
with an eager grin on your face anyways?
every day
is a reason to make the best of the small things because
remember when the small things kept you alive and
out of the hospital?
you can’t say no
to a lover who keeps persisting
so i’m calling you out of your darkness
the light is always on
this one is for you

my super power
is getting into my own head
i can bring on the rain
faster than flashfloods

my super power
is disappearing
not invisibility
disappearing
like in bad situations
i close my eyes and f          a         d      e       a          w         a         y

my super power
is smiling
because even on the worst days
i can pretend i am okay

my super power
is

-z.z

I don’t know who I am, to be honest. I’ve always thought I was a shell housing a…something

I used to think I was invincible. One day, I cut through my skin to see if I would bleed. I was still convinced that I was invincible. Another day, I lit a candle and wove my hands in and out to see if I would burn. I was still convinced that I was invincible. Another day, I approached my sister asking her what happens to us when we die. I don’t remember her answer but I know that was the day I stopped believing in invincibility. I bled harder than I ever will. My skin still remembers the sizzle of the bite.

I remember peering through a mirror. For once, I wasn’t scrutinizing my face, nor was I fascinated by the specks on the ceiling. I saw a girl, about five foot high, dark hair and a face. What was up with that face? Those eyes….see things? Those hands…don’t make things. Those hands crush things. Those hands wipe away droplets of the rain from the face with the eyes that see things. Those hands…aren’t for holding. Those wrists are too thin. Too veiny. Too green. Those arms double as chopping boards. Her shoulders turn in too much but her posture? She could have been a dancer. She should have been a dancer. The girl staring me down. Wasn’t me.

I remember thinking I knew who I was. I thought I was slightly insane. I thought I had been bruised too many times by the dull tips of arrows of words aimed at me. I thought I’d never see the light of day again. I thought I was depressed. I was. I thought my ideas of who I was were *******. They weren’t.

I know of a girl who wants to make people happy. A girl who talks to unicorns and a girl who walks around her house waiting for a person to appear so she can make them happy. This girl is trapped within me. I hear her polite knocks, yet I’ve locked her away and thrown away the key. This girl is determined. She’ll find a way out. I know she will. And when she does, the old me will slip away, like a snake shedding its skin, I’ll know who I am. She will know who I am. And together, we’ll set the world on fire. This time, we’ll watch it go up in flames.

the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is not
"fight my disability"
we were never at war with one another
like me, it just wants to exist
and so i let it
to some extent
i’ll never “become my disability”
yet i don’t believe it’s a bad thing either
i’ve come to realise that he’s become a part of me
as he’s helped shape my thinking
and maybe even my personality a little bit
i owe all my stubbornness to him
nah
i don’t fight my disability
we’re bffs

the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is not
"get up every day"
though for a while, i thought it was
getting up is easy
facing the world?
getting easier
i used to blush at the thought of getting a wheelchair
i’d bury my face in my knees and cover my ears with my hands, thinking that if i couldn’t see it or hear it, i wouldn’t need it
i cared too much of what society would see me as
not “normal teenage girl”
"sad confined possibly a teenage girl?"
normal is overrated
and to be honest?
so is society

the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is not
pretending i’m okay with mainstreaming
dear teachers, “mainstreaming” was never in my vocabulary
pretending?
pfft dear teachers, this is 100% real contentment
IEPs got some getting used to but after 16 years of endless doctors appointments, people in white sterile coats, plastic latex gloves poking, prodding demanding things of me
"mainstreaming"
won’t ever exist in my vocabulary
i know i’m smart
and i know i can do it
so don’t you DARE cry at my graduation
it’d be pretty pathetic if i believed in myself more than you do

the hardest thing i do as a disabled person
is
accepting the realities
i don’t know when i’ll take my last step
i don’t know when my muscles will give out for good
i know that every day i won’t know what’s right in front of me
i know that i’ll never be able to run another mile in my life
and i know that i won’t ever stop dreaming about the things i wish i could do
would love to do
won’t ever do
might do

one day

she told me to stop crying
i kind of said no
because the dams i had built were breaking
and i had to release the h2o

i promise to always be true to myself
and when i don't know who "myself" is
i'll find her before i act
as someone who isn't "herself"
because actions speak louder than my words ever will
i remember when i acted like i knew what was up
when i changed my clothes and my hair for someone
who wasn't worth changing for
i remember how lost i felt
finding myself took longer that time
still i find traces of the wannabe never-gonna-be girl that i tried to be
in my closet
in my mind
i will never completely rid myself of her
maybe she's become part of me
slipped into my body when i wasn't paying attention
maybe i liked it
i promise to know what i like
before i let it mutate
into something i genuinely hate
i promise to know who i am
before i try to get to know others
how can they know me
if i don't know me?

peeling off labels is like peeling off skin of a 3rd degree sunburn
i hate how it looks
and it's gonna hurt like hell
but i don't want the evidence there
why do i even care so much?

dear society
rip
i am not "anorexic"
tear
i have metabolism issues

the stickiness gums up
i didn't ask for this
shred
i'm not "antisocial"
strip
but i like being alone

stab
i'm not teen angst
hack
i'm growing up
stop telling me
i have problems
scratch
i know i have problems

i'm not canned vegetables
why do you need to know my contents?
pick
i'm not yours to scrutinize
stop staring at my body
stop trying to get into my head

stop slapping **** on me
and expecting me to fit into the little labeled box
i'm not
your labels

i like the chill that races up my spine
when my voice projects too loudly
it reminds me that my voice is mine
and so i'll shout from the rooftops proudly

my voice is most often soft
people rarely hear me speak
they look around, did someone squawk?
nope, it was more like a tinny squeak

i'm not the bravest person
yet my opinions urge me to speak my mind
every blue moon i'll gather the courage
and my definition of brave is redefined

my voice may be small but when it rains it pours
my mouth grew wings and away it will soar
bringing me to heights i never knew
speaking is only worth it if the words are true

today my barbaric yawp will be heard
both in written and spoken word
i will not hide behind the veil of silence
silence may be golden but being loud is preferred

i don't/can't/won't/shouldn't/ write this essay
instead i'll write poems
in procrastination
about girls that don't exist
guys that don't know i exist
unicorns i wish i was riding
holden caulfield
my brother
death and general grayness
procrastination poems
are better than my essay
writing essays are 95% procrastination and maybe 2% work
3% denial
this poem is already longer than my essay is
should i get to work or
read another article on my favourite band
or hover over the email tab
someone talk to me? no?
but music!
no good music is this a sign
minutes tick by drawing closer to midnight
my fingers have yet to fly over keys
like a reporter's with the Next Big Thing
i suppose i will sleep
and let the essay write itself

i-iii-i
i-i-iii can't
let me catch my breath
and get back to you

she whispered a secret into my hair
ruffled it like she does
my skin burned beneath her touch
ccc-c-can you not?

sshhhh she said
it's okay
no it's not
if i could only say the words

sss--sst--
what was that, honey?
ss--ssto*
you're a snake?*
no

stop.

little sister did you do your homework?
little sister don't make me ask you again
little sister why haven't you done it yet?
little sister i swear if you don't

little sister stop following us
little sister- no not now
little sister you'll understand when you're older
little sister go away

little sister i don't know the answers to everything
little sister ask mom
little sister stop bugging me
little sister i don't have time

little sister let me tell you this
little sister life is hard
little sister i'm not going to hold your hand but
little sister i'll always be here for you

little sister stop relying on other people
little sister you're stronger than you know
little sister you can do it
little sister i believe in you

he told me the secret to life
was faking it
he said that no one will be able to see the cracks in your skin beneath
the makeup i'll put on you
look in the mirror, he said
your reflection is flawless
and that girl is absolutely
100%
you
no scratches were visible
from the night i tried to claw my eyes out
he trimmed my nails short and said
they looked prettier that way
my formerly bloodshot eyes
and ratchet hair
had been replaced with contacts
the mane, tamed down into a tight little bun
i wasn't a girl who hated herself
i wasn't the girl who tried to hang herself
i was the girl who loved herself and thought life was just grand
i was the girl who was afraid of death
the screaming voices in my head were replaced
with condescending mama hen clucks
he spun me around once more and said
darling
look at your beautiful face
look at
you
yeah
look at me

don't fall in love
you'll taste the bitterness first
rise in love
and know no limits
falling in love
might hurt less
but rising in love
has the better view

i'm afraid of love
as any kid would be
love is built on trust and promises
i can't say i love you
even to the empty walls of my room
words are arrows
and i'm not ready for mine to
penetrate the heart of
someone who will fall from it
my love can not be blown away by the wind
nor will it sink like an unmovable boulder that lands in the water with a Shamu sized splash
my love is delicate
something to hold in the palm of your hand
don't crush it
when i find you
convincing me to love you
will be more than just a game
show me i can trust you
show me unbreakable promises
and maybe i will show you
what my love looks like

when they look at you with a smirk on their face
slap it off

my heart is full yet empty
teeming with love for places i’ve never seen and
people i’ve never met
wanderlust, they call it
an intense desire to see the world
one day
i'm going to get out of this small town
get in my car
and drive and drive
and drive until i reach
the end of every sentence I left unspoken
I'm going to see the places that would be
if I had said what I felt in the first place
I'm going to see the parts of you that you kept hidden for so long
I'm going to see what will be
when I finally listen to my instinct
maybe my heart will stop hurting and my brain will finally shut up
and let me enjoy the ride
because i have a feeling it will be a fast one
and something i won't ever forget

Holden Caulfield
A boy
Not yet a man
Stuck in the middle
Of two worlds
Ambivalence
Holden Caulfield
Calls up Sunny
The depressing
*******
Holden is nothing
But a boy
Not yet a man
Still stuck in the middle
Of two worlds
His virginity
Remains intact
Holden Caulfield
Thinks you’re a phony
A fake
Not who you really are
Old Stradlater
Old Ackley
Old Sally
Old Holden
Is a phony
Holden Caulfield
Isn’t who he really is
either

because i needed to write something though i had no idea how i was going to say it so i just started writing
and i am unsure of what ink will be spilled here and i apologise in advance if a picture comes out of it that is
too much for you to handle
sometimes poison bleeds out of my veins instead of blood
and it's a wonder that i've survived so long with blood so toxic
yet i found a way to live without living
the other day
my friend asked me if i was afraid of ghosts
i said i wasn't because ghosts are just spirits that are looking for a body to inhabit
i told her this and
she looked at me like i was deranged or on drugs
she then asked me if i was okay
//no//
my lips said yes
and my mind screeched no!
so she walked away thinking i really was okay
leaving me with thoughts that would strangle me to the ground
i hate thinking
and being alone
that's when the monsters come out and play
like this monster that apparated from her "are you afraid of ghosts" question
spawned the most evil creatures of thought
and i can't fight it
no i am not afraid of ghosts because
i am just a spirit looking for the body that once sheltered my existence

beautiful girls do not know they are beautiful
they are told they are beautiful in phrases of objectification
a little girl will grow up thinking she has to give her beauty away to society
to the boys who want her to be a certain way
to her parents who want her to be opposite of what the boys want
to the other girls who want what she has, thinking her beauty is something of a secret
no one will tell her that her beauty is her own to keep for herself, to share with others when she wants
no one will tell her that she doesn't owe anybody anything
so she'll give it away

a little girl will grow up thinking she has to be worth something
that her value won't ever be enough
that she has to weigh this amount, wear these clothes, glop on that much makeup so her real face becomes paper thin underneath the mask of plaster she'll try to pass off as her real face, her real smile
she'll starve herself, she'll gorge herself, she'll look in the mirror with such disgust,
hating every flaw that was once unnoticeable to her untrained eyes
her eyes will become hawks hunting for prey of impurities
her body will become a battlefield
and there's a chance she might lose

girls grow up
thinking they are in debt
some girls grow up
knowing they don't owe anyone
anything
but most girls grow up
without knowing how beautiful they truly are

Can you stop this heart from bleeding
Staunch the flow of my being
My tourniquets are fire engine red
Turning to shades darker than crimson—she’s dead

he drank his morning coffee with a drop of the sunrise mixed in
always one drop, never one more nor one less
just enough to hear the steam whisper
good morning

At noon he sipped his water
filled with remorse and not much else
work does that to you, you know?
he watched the clock tick tick tick the seconds away
and distractedness turned into dread

In the evenings, he drank shots of heartache mixed with every drop of the starlit sky he could get
Thirsty for more always wanting more
no amount of liquid hope could quench his thirst
He held his glass up to the heavens begging for slivers of the moon to trickle down into his soul
though the sky had nothing left to offer him

the next morning he mixed in an extra drop of the sunrise to ease the hangover
he had drinking problems
always drunk
rarely sober

At noon he sipped his water
filled with content and not much else
work does that to you, you know?
he watched the clock tick tick tick the seconds away
and distractedness turned into dread

In the evenings, he drank shots of heartache mixed with every drop of the starlit sky he could get
Thirsty for more always wanting more
no amount of liquid hope could quench his thirst
He held his glass up to the heavens begging for slivers of the moon to trickle down into his soul
though the sky had no more left to offer him

he drank his morning coffee with a drop of the sunrise mixed in
always one drop, never one more nor one less
just enough to hear the steam whisper
*good morning

they asked me
what did YOU do today to make the world a better place?
i looked down at my feet
embarassed
"i woke up"
i said
"i got out of bed"
they looked at me, puzzled
"i didn't let depression win"
a small smile crept across my face
no, my dear, the world the world
what did you do to make  the world  a better place
i took a deep breath
"i told the girl in the bathroom mirror she was beautiful"
"i told the boys to stop bullying the girl in the hallways though i wonder if they heard me"
"i told the empty hallways i'd be okay"
i told depression i'd bury it
i woke up
i got up
i stood up
and i hit "play"

brittle bones cracked but not broken
bruised battered bloke but not dead yet

there are many metaphors and lines of figurative language
to describe hopelessness
defeat
someone else won
i'm a fan of these metaphors and lines of figurative language
when i'm being weighed down being ground into the earth by this emotional *******
i need to hold onto something
so
i hold onto the lines that someone else spoke
the lines that someone else cried out in a moment of agony
i hold onto those lines that let me know
i'm not alone
i'm over the
i'm in darkness
line
i've come up with my own response, so cleverly structured in thought
and maybe one day
someone might hang onto my lines
like i've grasped others
i'm over the darkness and it's because
i've been stuck here for so long that i've learned how to see
because while darkness seems like the inevitable black hole that the universe will one day be ****** up into
the darkness
is really just shades of demonic monsters
and all you gotta do to survive
is figure out which shades are the lightest

sometimes i write because i feel empty
i feel like i can fill the void
with words and emotions that should be there but
aren't
it takes me
a couple dry poems
to realise
emptiness is not something even poetry
can fix

hello, you
please stop
i can't
anymore
why aren't
you leaving
yet?
i don't
understand
i keep
pushing, pushing
you're a
boomerang

there are moments when i do not know if i am dreaming or living a lie
there are moments when i am really really happy
those moments scare me