she’s a dancer
he’s a poet
she’s a lover
he’s a taker
she’s a professional
he’s a beginner
she’s passionate.
he fell in love
with money love.

she brings in thousands
he takes home a few dollars.
he loves a girl who only cares about love.
he cares about the money.
he’s a money lover.
she’s a real lover.
he’s using her
she’s unaware.

I don’t really like myself,
It’s true I don’t.
I don’t stand out.
I’m not any sort-of special.
I’m normal.
I don’t have a quality
that makes me stand out.
I change my hair color,
I wear makeup,
And I change who I am.
I try on clothes that make me cry,
because my body isn’t perfect.
I pick out new foundations,
To cover my flaws better.
I give into others,
To make them happy.
I have lost myself, and have found myself.
Still, through all I’ve gone through,
I still don’t like myself.
I feel undeserving of anything,
Useless, worthless, and terrible.

I’m sorry self, you shouldn’t be treated this way.

© Regan

I have bruises,
From my stupidity.

I have cuts,
From my pain.

I have scars,
From my past.

But I still get up every day,
Just like you.

Your unexposed skin,
Has no match for what mine has seen.

My skin, not only has had battles with others,
But myself.

Your skin is clean,
Fresh and innocent.

My skin is scarred,
From my own hands.

© Regan

i’m sorry to my family—
for always making things sad.
My feelings are out of control.
I hope you can understand.

i am out of control.
i am out of control.
i am out of control.

i’m sorry i can’t help it.
i wish i could snap my fingers and be peppy.
i’m sorry that i am not your perfect daughter.
I’m sorry that i get depressed.
I’m sorry that when i enter a room,
it gets colder.

i can’t control it.
i can’t control it.
i can’t control it.

i bring you all down.
i hide the tears.
i tell the hard truth.
it slips out from my lips.

i am sorry.
i am sorry.
i am sorry.

i am sorry that i am a negative nancy.
but i guess i am a dreamer
who’s dreams were crushed by society—
leaving me cold and empty.

Play a song, guitar
Let me be the melody
And you’re the beat.

© Regan

I hate reading
My old poetry,
Knowing how blue
I was.

I hate reading
My old poetry,
Because I knew
I was in a bad place.

I hate reading
My old poetry,
Because it shows
How lonely I am.

I hate reading
My old poetry,
Because it hurts
Me.

I hate reading
My old poetry,
For the pain
I was feeling.

I deal with
My old poetry,
Because now I’ve
Learned from it.

Say I’m only yours
And please be honest, baby.
Don’t play with my heart.

© Regan

On the tip of your tongue
Forgetting or remembering
It’s just out of reach...

Holding together my thoughts
Keeping them where they should be.

As my messy, disorganized mind causes chaos,
My small twisted friends,
Keep my mind going,
While pushing my thoughts further.

They’re small and lost easily,
But once they’re gone,
The train of thought is off it’s tracks.

The wild thinking of
Stress and worry,
Come back to where
They had left before.

Thank you my steel wire helpers,
I would be a mess without you.
Thank you for organizing my thoughts,
Thank you my paper clips.

© Regan

take me back to the days,
when all we did was make paper planes.
take me back to my previous emotions,
happiness and joy overload.
take me back to my old behavior,
being sweet and helpful.

~•~

paper planes soar slowly,
just like time used to.
the seconds feel shorter, hours fly by,
unlike my paper planes.
let my time feel longer.

paper planes remind me of when i was little.
my family loved me more.
the sky felt higher, the ground felt longer.
the world felt calmer and less chaotic.

paper planes show up again.
when i unwrap a piece of gum,
it becomes a plane.
when i toss scrap paper into the trash bin,
it becomes a plane.

~•~

i wish i treasured my childhood longer.

I wake up
Just to go back to sleep

I eat
Just to eat again

I cry
Just to cry again

I shower
Just to shower again

These patterns,
Don’t make much sense,
If I’m just going to do it again.
I guess it’s just life,
A whole gigantic pattern,
Only to come to an end.

© Regan

Picture me in a crowd, looking for you.
Picture me in a dress, sitting by you.
Picture me in the grass, holding hands with you.
Picture me in your arms, loving you.
Picture me shocked, looking at you.
Picture me sad, not because of you.
Picture me in a gown, marrying you.
Picture me yours, that’s all I want from you.

Picture you, loving me.
Picture you, holding me.
Picture you, with me.

Picture you without me,
Picture me without you.
Just picture me.

© Regan

Doctor! Doctor!
“Take one of these twice a day!”
They’ll stop your pain, they’ll make you feel normal.
Your sadness will go away.
These “Pills” don’t take away my sadness,
Is what you don’t understand, Doc.
These “Pills” replace my sadness temporarily,
With fake emotion.
These “Pills” are a joke to us struggling.
They don’t fix me, they pause my problem.

© Regan

i am fine.
another lie!
you ask me how i’m doing,
but fine is all i say.
i don’t realize my struggle
i don’t realize my pain
i let these words bury
i let these feelings hide away.
i’ve never been “fine”
my emotions have been stronger.
i’ve cried and felt depressed,
i’ve laughed until i couldn’t breathe,
i’ve fell in love and out of it too.
it’s mysterious how i can brush it off
tell a lie to hide it more,
nobody realizes, nobody notices,
except me.
i can not recognize this pain
until it’s too late.
lying does me no good,
when all i am doing,
is lying to myself.

victrola
the needle spins
on my records.
the cleanest sound
produced from it.
the sounds
echo throughout
my room.
my jazz music
ringing in my ears.
my tears fall with the beat
it spins
and spins
and spins the sounds.
the music chimes
not even a scratch on the records,
but it plays as if it was the first time.
i love the sounds on my
victrola.

As I am from Kentucky,
Does it even matter to me?
Only my future children
Will care where I’m from.

Soon forgotten of me.
Just as ancestors before..
I will just be a speck in what’s to come
Unimportance.

I’m meaningless
What difference do I make?
In a world we’re babies are born constantly
And immortality undiscovered

Legends before me, will soon be forgotten
Is life even worth it?
Does my existence matter?
What is the point of this...?

To those who really know me
Will only be the ones to miss me
When it is my time
To leave.

© Regan

Sadness is when you are up at 2 a.m.,
And you are greeted with loneliness.
Sadness is when it turns from
An emotion to a state of mind.
Sadness is a conqueror,
Of how you live and feel.
Sadness will bother you,
Until you don’t feel bothered anymore.
Sadness is a drug,
Once received, you are becoming it.
But, what is sadness?
What truly is it?

it’s painful,
extremely torturing,
that the ocean,
is 657.7 miles away.

the only place
that fills me
with such honest joy
is the beach.

it’s spiritual,
being in a gorgeous place,
filled with hot sand
and cold water.

instead of being
in the most wonderful place,
i’m here,
stuck in my room.

my room,
even if it’s just kentucky,
is filled with nautical
decorations.

it all just reminds me
where i’d rather be.
i’ve surrounded myself
with the ocean.

~•~

god i miss the ocean

The touch of your skin
Holding me close
Pulling me in
The color of love
The color of disaster
The color of pain
The color of life
But in reality the color is blank
For those to fill in
A different meaning to each and every person
Who learns their color on their own
You brought the color of green
A mix of yellow and blue
Yellow is the happiness
And blue is the emotions
Of sadness and despair
In a blank canvas world
You bring me saturation.

© Regan

A young girl—
Out too late—
Running through a quiet urban city
searching for the sounds
That have been playing in her head

The radio gives her no help—
Those songs aren’t what she’s looking for
She craves and older more mature sound
The sound that only the dark night possesses

She can almost feel the sound,
It’s strength is almost feeding into her
She takes the bait
And makes her way to the old pub

She’s amazed by the Saxophone
And the blues lifting the air
She lets them fill her mind
And numb her surroundings

“Oh, sounds, why haven’t we met before?”
She cries out.
But the sounds keep playing
And drowning out her thoughts.
She now knows where she belongs.

© Regan

You aren’t special
You won’t ever be someone’s “one”
You’re just as ordinary as everyone else,
Who’s foolish enough to think love is good.
It’s just like falling down the stairs,
Having someone brush you off and help you stand, and then pushing you down another.
You’re a silly girl to think love is good.

You aren’t going to rise above others.
You’re gonna keep standing on your own feet.
Until someone pushes you down
Dreams aren’t a reality anymore, you can’t follow them, take a more “realistic” path.
Grow up you silly girl.

Your mommy and daddy aren’t happy,
Working a 40 hour shift just to come home and deal with your problems.
They don’t see each other much anymore,
Reality hit them faster than imagined.
Don’t think true happiness is real silly girl.

You’ll be happy to hear this from me now
Than to realize it yourself in 20 years,
You silly girl.

© Regan

it’s quite funny
nobody else exists when i’m around you
i don’t look around to see who notices me
i don’t try to spot pretty faces in crowds
the prettiest face is always looking right back at me
holding me, loving me, telling me sweet words.
i’ve been an attention ***** from childhood
fatherless and filling that void was my focus
i ate it up, it fueled me, it gave me purpose.
i’ve forgotten it because of you
the only person i want to see me is you.
i’d tear my eyes out if i’d never see you again
i’ll never want anything more from you
but you.
you fill that void, you’re the missing puzzle piece.
i’ve searched for you my entire life
shoving worthless people in to feel complete.
somehow i stumbled upon you accidentally
the pieces merged together and my eyes opened.
you complete me, fill me, shown me what love is;
i’ve lost that filter of being able to hold the tears
they stream out when i remember the abundance
of love you’ve given me when i needed it most.
life without you was nothing special:
eat, sleep, breathe, cry
—quite pathetic and never ending.
how did i manage to find you?
i’ve begged God for you.
i’ve asked what made me unworthy of love.
why i’ve been given dud after dud.
only pain came from my relationships.
every time you tell me how you feel
how you love me
how you crave me
how you’ll **** me
how you’ll hold me
how you’ll comfort me
how you’ll marry me
i yearn to tell my younger self to be patient.
if only i knew you were out there
i’d stop letting my body be used
i’d stop letting them hit me
i’d stop throwing up to be skinny
i’d stop starving myself
i’d stop cutting my wrists
I’ve cried endless tears waiting.
but the only tears i shed for you
are nothing less than formed from our love.
as much as i wish i could tell you this,
i’d never be able to get the words out.
therefore, i’ll write them,
and hope you love them as much as
i love you.

strangely—
i’ve been getting these dreams.
these dreams are about death,
but not some stranger’s,
my own.
not only is it my own death,
but it’s the way i do it—
it’s been different everytime.

my brunette locks waving slowly
as i fight the water—drowning.

tears running from my emerald eyes,
as i slice my arms open in a bathtub.

my lifeless body swinging,
whilst hanging from a rope.

tears and screams escaping,
as i hold a pistol in my mouth.

my soft skin burning,
while i’m surrounded by flames.

my realization of my loneliness,
as my heart breaks.

god help me.

She’s been swimming more
But she didn’t learn this way
Learned by drowning

© Regan

Cold, salty droplets
They’re always showing up
I can’t control them.

© Regan

A
Droplet
Falling from
Tired eyes when
Least expected, they
Appear like no other.
These tears are cold
And they pour out
Very slowly, but
Are the most
Painful.

who am i?
what am i going to spend my finite life?
what is going on!
what’s going to happen in 4, 30, or 50 years?

I have been through tragic amounts of trauma,
but I still want to protect you from what's happened to me.
I don't talk about it because I know you already know.
I want you to see the joyful parts of me.
How far I've come as a person, rather than a victim.
I know my scars are deep, but you kiss every inch anyways.
You hold my body and touch me without worrying about hurting me
because you know you never could.
I know you will always be there if it started getting the best of me.
The last thing I want for you
is to think I'm any less than I am
And the last thing I want for me
is to think you couldn't understand.

The burning sand sliding in between your toes.
The breeze making you feel weightless.
The salty-smell filling the air.
Seagulls flying above.
Once touching the refreshing sand in the ocean,
You’ve become it.

© Regan

This big world is pretty scary,
Being a young girl.
I’m pretty defenseless compared to
The monsters in this big world.
There’s disease, pain, and suffering,
In this big world.
My existence feels small,
And my problems feel microscopic.
Such a big world,
Will millions of other things.
But this big world is apart
Of an even bigger world,
Is it even that big, anyways?

it is 2 a.m.
everything is dark.
my room is hot
but i shiver when i’m not surrounded by my comforter.
i don’t know why it’s hard to breathe
or hard to move
or why the tears won’t stop.
why do i feel stuck in my room?
why do i crave it when i leave?
why do i want to leave when i’m here?
i just want some air and some reassurance that i’m not losing it.
i just want my arms to stop shaking while my skin is so warm.
i want my pulse to calm down.
i want my mind to stop thinking.
i just want to sleep.