My age is such a disrespect to how old my soul is
I've been 16 for 6 months now and I have learned so much
But really,
the lessons That can only be learned through experience;
Those started 3 years ago

In 3 years I learned just about enough to be set for the rest of my life

That makes me sad

I've always been different you know
Open minded
Non judgmental
Free spirited
Wild hearted
Rebellious
I thought about things in a different way
My intellect is and has always been one withholding infinite depth; at 13 years of age it was greater then my ability to differentiate from what was, what wasn't, and what could've been
I was definitely way to independent for my own good

I don't think that being a 13 year old made up of all those things was good for me

But I guess there's not much I can do about that considering the fact that all of that is left in the unfortunately non changeable and non reversible  thing called "the past"

I've felt way to much pain
I've been treated way to poorly
I've been used way to much
I've been taken for granted

Touched in unpleasant ways and wiped clean of confidence, trust, and security

There once was a time were I was able to feel
You know that type of feel you only obtain once in your life

And then I experienced my first heartbreak; it was as if I died for the first time

I remember the feeling as if it was still living in me

I found myself dried out of tears sitting on the floor staring at millions of tiny broken grey shards of glass .. I realized that I was staring at everything I was that had now been ripped from me; all of my many colors and my perfectly whole self was broken and grey lieing in the floor without life
it felt as if a knife was stabbing right through my chest and my loungs were filling with blood
slowly I was bleeding out
everything that I was; my innocence, the love I had yet to give was draining from my soul & hopelessness took over me for  I did not know how to make it stop

2years later
Many deaths later
Here I am
Empty

You might think:
"she's only 16 how could she be stuck in such a hopeless dark whole? How could her loungs be filled with such thick smoke composed of intoxicating and fatal desolation"

Truth is that's exactly how I torture myself every second of my dam life;
With that same question

How could I have let my past **** me and shape me into what it wanted me to be?

I should of fought for myself
People keep telling me to fight but I'm not really sure if there is anyone left to fight for.

16, Beautiful, Damaged

I hope my life is never so desolate
that it lacks art or poetry;
that would be the only poverty
I would find intolerable.

I wish you’d left a mark on my skin,
something to last for days,
something you can’t do.

I considered lying back in bed
with you.
So that if I never left
and we never parted,
we’d remain in the glowing bliss,
and you wouldn’t have disappeared again.

if I should sleep with a lady called death
get another man with firmer lips
to take your new mouth in his teeth
(hips pumping pleasure into hips).

Seeing how the limp huddling string
of your smile over his body squirms
kissingly, I will bring you  every spring
handfuls of little normal worms.

Dress deftly your flesh in stupid stuffs,
phrase the immense weapon of your hair.
Understanding why his eye laughs,
I will bring you every year

something which is worth the whole,
an inch of nothing for your soul.

you are waiting
waiting
waiting
suited up in your spirit of self-loathing,
eating a full helping of anxiety every day for lunch
mucking your ears with the wax of negative self-voice
making it hard to hear the whisper in stillness
as for me, I will live
live
live
even on those days when you can’t come along
I won’t wait for spring and every dream I’ve ever had
to happen before my heart can be light
before I can sing and exude sunshine
and if my warmth can open your tightly
closed bud, I will shine until we bring forth color
this exact moment will never happen again
our closets could be filled with maps
books and autographed vinyls
but if you put a picture in a ziplock bag
remember
the life in that bag already ran out of air
whether waiting for tomorrow or wishing for to-day
the only heart that’s beating strong is right now

I am trying too hard to be a deadly fire
or an unspeakable storm,
I am trying too hard to be angry
and unlovable
though I know I am neither
I am trying too hard
to be chaotic and indestructible
trying to create coldness and bitterness
even though I know that flaws are human
and unconditional love exists.
There is artful beauty in the aftermath of mistakes,
you just have to find it.

The mirror was tarnished,
It gave her a sepia glow

The reflection varnished,
Memories garnished by sorrow

And with a silver brush
She smoothed away the greying years

Finely powdered gold dust
To cover trace of wear and tears

The mirror was tarnished,
And now brightly shines her beauty.