Jealousy is a prison,
That encloses you in shackles,
And locks you in a room.
The lack of trust flows through my veins like adrenaline as I struggle to break free;
I slam my head against the brick walls hoping someone will hear me.
I cry for help but it's like screaming with your mouth closed,
As I drown in my thoughts, and overthink my misery.
The prison walls grow tighter around me and I begin to close my eyes,
As I pray for the days where I can see the light.
Jealousy is something that can tear you apart.
And for me, it's a prison I can't get out of.
I was born without the ability to trust,
So I weep to myself hoping I will get out.

Snitch-catcher.
Cauldron-stirrer.
Wand-waver.
Quidditch-player.
S­tone-retriever.
Riddle-killer.
Buckbeak-rider.
Triwizard-enterer.­
Phoenix-member.
Snape-hater.
Voldemort-fighter.

let him go
gently, gently now
let his footsteps echo
as he walks away
embrace the sound
and swallow down all the things
you'd love to say
this time, what is lost will not be found
let your freedom sing.

from the evergreen trees
to the dead and decomposing leaves
of trees that just don't stick around
the pitter patter, that silent sound
of the fall of rain, the drip of tears
the feathers of these past years
pluck away, **** the days
that you wasted with him
there must be some way
to shadow the agony with a graceful grin

do not drown yourself
in drink
do not harm yourself
in what you think
because the sun will rise,
the sun will fall
the world will surprise
by taking all
that you had

it might not be eloquent,
but these are instructions
on how to live with a broken heart
your fingers, your words will not mend
only time will tell

he will walk away
with a lack of empathy
he will never say
that you are what he needs.

accept, regret, and see what comes next
these words are yours to protect.

As a little girl, my mother and father would drive around while smoking in the car, with the window rolled down, as I would roll up the ends of my sleeves clenching them towards my nose to be rid of the smell I have never liked.

I believed that when my parents would smoke around me, I was a smoker too. I had had the scent of a smoker too. But when I was with you, it was different.

That night, not caring how much I hated those sticks of paper as a child, I would watch you put it in your mouth and on your lips, inhaling it until you couldn't any further.  I silently sat in the backseat admiring how you would slowly inhale and exhale the toxic fumes it gave off.

That night, I went home.
I walked in through my back door.
I slid my shoes off and tiptoed toward my bedroom.
I passed my parents' room, witnessing them sound asleep next to each other, peacefully.
I took off my old grey sweatshirt and inhaled slowly, the smell of your secondhand smoke, and smiled.
Because it was yours.

I hated those sticks of paper full of toxic fumes.
I hated the smell of those sticks of paper full of toxic fumes.
Now, myself, I am one of those sticks of paper full of toxic fumes.
We both have touched your pink, chapped lips, got used, and are now thrown away.

I remember the first time I did it.
I felt so alive, I felt so free,
Then out of the blue addiction took it's hold.
How did it happen that quickly?
I'm not sure I even know.
Before I even turned around
I'd hit rock bottom, I felt so alone.
The bullying was relentless,
physically, verbally and emotionally.
The same old story day after day.
I felt my confidence and my strength slipping away.
There was no hope, no fight,
Nothing left in me to give,
I was cold. I was numb.
Then it all changed. I started to self harm.
At first a scratch would do,
Then it wasn't enough,
It escalated from there.
Soon it wasn't just my arms,
It was anywhere I thought no-one would see.
I felt like I was in control again,
I told myself "If I can do this I can handle any pain".
My box of blades became my best friend.
The bandages hid my secrets well.
Excuse after excuse came easily,
The scars appeared where the cuts had been
No-one knew how loud I wanted to scream.
They couldn't see the hurt inside
They didn't know my soul had died
I still remember the day they were told.
I was only 14 years old.
For 2 years I'd hidden it well.
I stopped for a while,
A few weeks at least.
The bullies didn't stop
If anything it was worse
I tried to take control again,
I believed I could do it
Without causing anyone any pain.
"If I'm better at hiding it no-one will know"
But as it got worse the scars began to show.
For a time it got really bad
It was two or three times a day.
Anytime I was alone,
Whatever I had close by.
I didn't care if I lived or died.
I wasn't trying to end my life
I was simply trying to feel alive.
As the pain inside got worse
So did my addiction.
The more people hurt me
The more I'd hurt myself.
It was that way until a year ago today.
I was inspired by someone who means a lot to me.
They sent me a message that said they believe in me.
Something inside me switched that day.
I felt worthy of love, acceptance and kindness.
I felt valued and worth something in the world.
Looking back I suddenly believed it wasn't my fault,
I didn't deserve this punishment or the hurt inside.
I needed to let go of it all and let myself live my life.
That's what I've spent the past year doing,
Sometimes I am amazed I made it at all.
However I did make it,
And to anyone out there struggling
You will make it too because,
Just like someone believed in me,
I believe in you.