i just want to close my tired eyes,
and fly away.
dazed, amazed, i peacefuly gaze into space.
getting lost in purple haze,
i dream of better days.

floating on air,
nomore pain, or dispaire.
i dont care at all.
i just want to smile for a little while.
and blissfuly bounce off of these four walls.

I can feel my heart ready to burst
I'm  not a morbid person on the outside
I can't show no remorse
And on the inside my soul is black
Like the sky without stars
Nothing twinkles for me
No candle lights my flame of hope
Is this a disease
Of everlasting dispaire
It makes me so mad
I want to pull out my hair
Will my suffering ever stop
Or will I grow depressed until the day that I drop

Allison Kimmey had said that Nobody is fat. We all have it. Some just a bit more than others.

But me. I have too much. Im tired of looking in the mirror trying to convince myself that I am beautiful. How can I just stand there and lie to myself while I'm terrified of my reflection.

Pictures. Doesn't everybody have some. My pictures are aweful. They deserve to be thrown in the firey pitts of dispair.
Dispair. I have so much. It fills my body to the brim and flows out by my feet. Filling the room slowly as I drown in my own saddness.

Self esteem. Everybody has it. Except me. My self esteem has plumitted to its grave so long ago. When those pretty girls called me ugly. When that cool boy called me fat. Everytime I had to look at the size tag on my shirt and it read extralarge. Because I'm just and extralarge girl arnt I.

And just because I have accepted I'm fat doesnt mean it still doeasnt hurt. Just as a man who has accepted he will die still feels that cold running through his veins as if frost were replacing the blood that was spilling out on the pavement.

Every heavy step I make gives a thud sound reminding me of my wieght. Reminding me of the truth.

Hearts. Mine is sick. My heart bears too much. Now let's forget about the heart conditions it holds for a second. And look a bit deeper. Past the scars it holds from judgment too. Past the open wounds from everytime I've lied to myself. Everytime my friends lied to me. Let's go into the deepest darkest place in my heart. The core. Where it's the pride there. You know. The only thing keeping my heart beating. The pride in myself. Though very little, I still have just a bit left.

It tells me to cut. Because only the weak give up. Only the weak die. And I am not weak. I am fat, I am ugly, I am hurt. But I am not weak. Therefore I live. Maybe not the way people want me to. Maybe the scars on my leg and wrist are as ugly as me. But that's okay. Because I'm still alive.

The dispair I'm drowning in is still there, but I found an air bubble of hope. And it won't last me long. I know that. But I have the hope now. Just because of my pride telling me I am not weak. And that is why I live.

But then, the deppression that I thought I had deafeted saw me. And it said that it was never gone. It was always there. And it reminded me that I don't know how to be happy. I've been this way my whole life. It tells me that I don't know how to smile on my own. I fake a smile whenever I know I'm supposed to be happy. When I'm supposed to laugh. I hide behind the mask I made. Because I am afraid. I don't know how to smile. How to laugh. I have to fake it all and it kills me on the inside.

What is happiness. I wouldn't know. Because I am taking my last breath before I'm lost in my dispaire again. The hope is gone and my pride is crushed. What is left to keep my heart beating now?

Lies. The lies I tell myself everytime I have to look at that disgusting thing in the mirror. This is my lie.

"No one is fat. They just have fat. Some more than others."

This is how I'm dead. All emotion drained once again. It floated away as I sank deeper into my dispaire.

There you go again coming back into my life,
Bringing up old memories cutting through me like a knife.
Leading me on and knowing what your doing,
You don't want me to move on so you decide to keep *******...
Me over, and over just to keep me around.
I'm not trying to be anybody's rebound.
Especially not yours,
Bc for some reason I still want nothing more,
Than you be yours...
That's why I let you hold me in your arms,
Even though we know it's doing nothing but harm.
Well harming me at least,
You just wanted to know if my feelings for you have ceased
But now that you see  they haven't and you do what you do best and leave...
After all night you trying to make me believe,
That you actually just might care...
But you don't and you leave me lying there in dispaire...
Yet I still wait for another night,
That maybe just maybe you might...
Treat me like you do every once in a while,
And that's all I need to have that special smile...
The one you give me when your with me,
Treating me like you want it to be...
Just us two and nobody else with no regrets,
Until I wake up days later with still no texts.
I can't help but feel stupid Bc I know exactly what's going on....
But that's what happens when someone gets too close to your heart.
You made me feel like the ugly duckling that became the swan.
I've never felt so beautiful before...so no matter how long we are apart,
I know that my heart will always have an open door...
For you and only you,
But until then here I am stuck again feeling nothing but confusion mixed with the blues...

With wings
And Zephyr pull,
Out of tumult and solitude,
make us fly to greener climes.

The yearning​ of the
The loss of cold
That makes us wander so.

Those battered wings that
make us fledglings,
and faulter up on high.

That cause for us to crash again
into the burning snow.

Yet with a burning need
To melt the frozen rock.

Is mettle of our will,
and of the earth to shake.

So alight again
with fierce and needed flailing,

full of wondering.

Become a force.
Of fight or flight,
no longer,
only thing.
More than sum of it, it's parts
and wary be your sting.

That wakes from you dispaire,
that dark remains and reigns,
with all the sun to fear.

With all against we ever fight, with forever death of night.

The changing seasons are not more changefull
Then my mistresse; neither more vengefull
Is the wooing autumn wind that sedvceth
A singing mood afore it blasteth
With bitter colde, angry and disdainfull.
Her scorne is lyke a scorpion stinge painfull
In my sad heart wich bleedeth for banefull
Her who presently nowe observeth
          The changing seasons.
Her cruell scorne capricious entiseth
My heart to dispaire; itt dispaireth
Dailye and dieth from disese carefull.
Her scorne doth make my harte most woefull,
And so my smartyng heart despiseth
          The changing seasons.