I remember when I was in the hospital and I didn't sleep for two days straight because I swore to god that if I did the demons would step out from under the bed and seep into my head.

I remember when it was three am, and I was shaken awake from the girl three doors down shrieking from the night terrors that her mother embedded into her skull with her fist and a belt when she was eight. But, they were then stored away until she was thirteen years old and a man swore that he'd beat her if she didn't cooperate. So, now they hide during the day, and creep back up when the sun falls.

I remember when I witnessed a boy unintentionally scratch at his skin until he bleed for an hour because the voices inside of his mind told him that if he didn't hurt anyone else, he would just have to hurt himself. and he swears he'd never hurt anyone besides himself.

I remember when I met a girl who had cuts up and down her arms and legs from when her mother told her she'd never survive the world because she isn't good enough. But, I swear to god that she was the strongest person I've ever met.

I remember when my roommate stayed up all night rocking with bloodshot eyes and deep purple circles underneath of them because she swore that if she slept the monsters inside of her head would crawl out and bleed into her soul.

I remember when the boy five doors down hit the wall so hard that it shook the entire unit because he hallucinated a man and a little girl trying to strangle him, and he swore he could feel the noose around his neck.  

even through all of this, for some odd reason teenagers think it's lovely to have deep scars and to hear voices telling them to **** themselves and everyone around them. I swear, nothing is lovely about demons eating at your brain and thoughts.

I remember when it was four am, and I was up weeping from the fact that people think my suffering is lovely.

I can swear to you, it's not.

I'm an avid reader of books,  many different books
Tolstoys War And Peace took me seven days to read
Lord Of The Rings Trylogy just 3 days
One of those books I've read just once
The other I could almost quote
word
for
word
I read some truly great works of poetry here
Some simple with a message loud and clear
easily understood
Some long but with a rhythmic flow
the sort of poem where you cant let go
Then there is the long drawn out dirge
full of metaphors and unusual words that I don't even understand
I might read it once,  try to understand then file it under done
I just write the simple stuff,  that's what I do best
But, no matter how or what you write its all good.

                           After all, poetry is not a test ~
                      it is an expression of our humanity.

You may have died young,
        but as long as
        my words live,

*You will never grow old.

I am my biggest enemy,
I am my best friend.
I push myself of the ground
And criticize my self.

Then I'm the stretched out hand
Who picks me and brushes me off
I say the words that inspire me
Make me cry at first, and then laugh.

No one can take me away
From the person residing within me.
It tells me what to say,
Also the correct way to behave.
It sees what my eyes see,
it understands what I feel.

The truth is, I rule me.

i wish I could show you
the pictures I took today
on my first hike of spring

they are pretty spring flowers
so fragrant in bloom
lilacs and wildflowers

they tell me, in sweet whispers,
"spring is really, truly, here"
and I feel my winter blues, disappear

I cant say that this heals me
or fills me with joy
but it gives a small tint, of hope

as I watch the birds flitter
from branch to branch
I let my imagination soar.

I climb up to the tippy top of a tree.
and wait. after all is still,
nature resumes.

and I watch. and it gives me
hope.
and faith.

that life will go on.
even when I don't really want it too.