When asked what is sadness
there are a number of answers
perhaps sadness is
what we feel when we're alone
but not completely at ease
perhaps sadness is
happinesses broken younger sister
perhaps sadness is
the thing some people crave for
more than anything else
perhaps sadness is
loving someone who doesn't love you back
perhaps sadness is
what comes when we lose love
or have never found it
perhaps sadness is
the only one that feels our pains
perhaps sadness is
a reminder that we're human
well most of the time anyway
or perhaps sadness is
just another emotion that follows confusion
sadness is an emotion we feel
when our minds just don't want to believe what's just happened
or we just don't understand...

If this life is false
then what is truly real
all these painful emotions
or this love that I feel
if we're not truly writers
then can we find our voice
if this life we know
it was never really our choice
and if what we know
is all just lies
then why do we
cover our eyes
if we're not dreaming
then we're not living
and then who am I
to tell you
another lie...

As I tap my fingers against the pinewood table, the strands of my hair droop in front of my face. My eyes start to become blurry of tears, I see nothing but the smudge writings on my paper. The room is cold, I can see my breath, I feel so empty. I can no longer see the sun above the hills. I wipe my eyes and tie my hair in the messiest ponytail. I grab my bag and stuff the unfinished papers in it. I throw on my black leather boots with the worn out shoestrings. The door swings open, all I see is pine trees lost in the musky dark. The stars lead me on. I take steps after steps, the dry twigs and dead leaves crackle beneath my boots. I try not to make a sound. There's a light wind blowing in the air, it tickles my face. My callow green jacket doesn't keep me warm enough. I walk faster and see an opening. Out I come, I see the empty road. From left to right there's not a single vehicle. I raise my arm and throw out my thumb. There's leftover tears still on my face, my hair still in its ponytail. The wind becomes colder, my scrawny legs in my black tights can't keep up with the coldness. My arm starts to weaken and I begin to cry. My face is even colder. I sit on the jagged ground with my legs crossed, weeping quietly. Suddenly there's a vivid light heading my way, I become blinded by its beauty. The light comes closer to me, it makes a complete stop. I see that it's a vehicle. A cobalt pick up truck. I stand up and wipe the dirt off me. The door opens and welcomes me in. I don't hesitate. I hop in and never look back. I sit back and let a smile crawl on my face, I don't care where I'm going, or who I'm with, as long as I'm away from the pain.

The way we live,
It's dangerous to walk alone, sleep at night,
Trust people.
Our voracious greed for lust and pride,
Can we share a meal or give a hug?
The murderous crimes we make,
We grieve, mourn, suffer.
Why are we all insecure?
The way we look doesn't fit the press or set the stage.
There's alot of sins we created that cannot be undone,
Some of us pray, some of us resin.
We rely on technology to babysit us,
Yet we're still lost.
We're all sunflowers lost in a world filled with sorrow, complaints, lust, greed, pride,
The only thing that completes us is the little happy things in our lives.
We're sunflowers lost in the world.

As he places his hand on her soft white cheek,
He sees the tears of a lost one.

His left hand in hers,
She holds him tight as if he's going to fade away.

He can feel her heartbeat through his,
Their love is so close.

He can tell she doesn't want to let him go,
But with a sudden tug, he pulls away.

Tears on her face,
Her eyes are widened, she reaches her arm out.

He can hear the loud cries of his sad lover,
There's no turning back.

Ready for war.

It's just a bite, what harm could it do?
It triggers a domino effect, because one bite invariably turns into two, and three, and four and all of a sudden you're eating.
But you can't do that, because being skinny will make everything better.
You look in the mirror, hoping to see ribs and spine and hip-bones. You stretch your skin farther over your bones, and watch the fat melt away. You are skinny, and you are indestructible.
Nothing fits.
You shop for new clothes
but they sag in all the wrong places.
Nothing pulls over your chest the way it used to, instead it hangs there limply.
There are inches of extra fabric behind your thighs.
Your hips used to be graceful and womanly, but now you look like a pre-pubescent child.
Being skinny just isn't fun anymore.
But you can't go back, because you remember times when you'd stand in front of dressing room mirrors and clothes would s t r e t c h over your stomach and hips and thighs and *******. Everything would be too tight in all the wrong places.
It is either skinny or fat, never an in-between. You can never be "healthy" because that's fat too.
And the food is still on your plate while all of this runs through your mind and it almost kills you, because it's JUST A BITE.
but it isn't 'just' anything. it's a big deal.
So you leave the bite behind and your stomach begs you for something, anything. And then you see the candy.
The chips.
The diet sodas.
The protein bars.
The brownies.
The ice cream.
The milkshakes.
And suddenly you are out of control, eating it all at once and you can't stop. It goes in but it HAS TO COME OUT.
So you lock yourself in the stall.
You tickle the back of your throat with your pointer finger and it comes back.
Purple,
Orange,
Blue.
Unnatural colors that come from processed foods.
Red,
yellow,
green.
And you are empty again,
crying on the bathroom floor
with no one to save you.