As I reach for you
time and time again,
you surprise me
with just how
perfect you are.

You're the fleeting
dream in which
I cannot grasp.

You're so close
yet so far away.

And as you blind
my vision, I
don't realize the
damage you inflict
upon me.

And as I leave
the others to
sail by themselves,
your green light
is all I see,
your expensive voice
is all I hear,
your soft lips
are all I taste,
your short-lived love
is all I feel.

As a piercing pain and
a diluted red envelop me,
I reach out to what
I desperately believe in.

And as I sail
to the end of
the world, I
forget my fellow
yet poetic sailor.

Never knowing
the pain I cause
my poor old sport.

"There are plenty of fish under the ocean."

Wait. Scratch that.

"There are plenty of fish in the aquarium. Why the aquarium you ask? Because there are prettier fish in there than in the ocean. And not all of them bite."

If I could go back in time and tell my younger self something, it would be to change.

To change for the better.

Not only towards myself, but to other people as well.

I would tell my younger self to change for the better...

*... before it's too late...

I don't wish for many things from others.
But I do wish the most from myself.

I wish I could play the guitar, the piano,
the ukulele, the violin, the cello; as many
instruments as I possibly can.

I wish I had amazing grades, like 90's
and 100's on all of my educational
classes; and that I had joined the PAP and
AP courses sooner in order to impress
colleges and universities.

I wish I was more slim than I am now,
and that I had attractive curves - not as
in oversized *******, but as in nice
curves on my stomach, legs and arms.

I wish I was pretty, as in big beautiful
and attractive eyes, soft and colored
(not pale) lips, clear skin free of acne
and ****** hair, long and luscious and
silky hair, soft skin, and a cute nose.

I wish I was a nice sister, one who
didn't ignore her siblings, who
interacted with them and got along
with them greatly.

I wish I was an amazing daughter and
family member, one who didn't argue
and wasn't distant from her parents, who
visited her family members frequently
and was sociable with them all.

I wish I had the best personality, one that
didn't ignore her friends and family, one
that always made people smile and laugh,
one that was sweet & nice to everyone,
one that was perfect.

I wish I was perfect.

Too bad they're all wishes.

I think I've lost my mind.

I'm close to the edge,
Oh so close to the light.

I think I've lost my mind.

It's painful, but that dark
red is so pretty and bright.

I think I've lost my mind.

I'm my own hero because
I'm making the Hurt disappear.

I think I've lost my mind.

It's so loud but the
Silence is all I hear.

I think I've lost my mind.

I'm my own savior because I'm
making the Darkness go away.

I think I've lost my mind.

My time is running
out like the day's day.

I think I've lost my mind.

It's so fun seeing Them
try to figure me out.

I think I've lost my mind.

The theory of a God is
something I've come to doubt.

I think I've lost my mind.

I'm so perfectly imperfect,
your average person.

I think I've lost my mind.

They're oblivious as they cause
my condition to worsen.

I think I've lost my mind.

They try to fix me through
useless pills and injections.

I think I've lost my mind.

Why is it that I accept everyone,
yet I'm met with rejection?

I think I've lost my mind.

This world is
so ****** up.

I think I've lost my mind.

Where's my daily
Clozapine cup?

I think I've lost my mind.

They say it helps my
"psychotic tendencies."

But it makes my gray day
more dark than before.

I'm scared because this
treatment makes the darkness
reappear even stronger.

I think I've lost my mind.

I'm flying.

I think I've lost my mind.

I'm scared.

I think I've lost my mind.

Everything's blurred.

I think I've lost mind.

They tell me I'm losing
my grip on reality.

I think I've lost my mind.

I'm on my way to the light.

I think I've lost my mind.

This is my own treatment.

*I've lost my mind.

We all wear skin.
We all wear clothes (or at least I hope all of us do).
We all wear expressions.
We all wear similar tastes.
We all wear differing preferences.
And we all wear masks.

One thing we all without
a doubt wear, are masks.

You wear one.
I wear one.

Mine has smiles plastered
on it all the time; it has joy;
laughter; contentment; humor;
happiness; wholesomeness;
confidence; courage; and
life on it.

It looks so pretty.

It covers the frowns;
tears; sorrow; longing;
self-consciousness; fear;
discontent; angst; anxiety;
self-loathing; and the death
that haunts my soul.

What does yours wear?

I want to cry.

I'm sad.

I want to die.

I'm not the person,
I so badly want to be.
I'm capable of being
someone better; but you see...
I don't try.
I'm disappointed in myself
because I look in the mirror & lie
to myself everyday, falsely assuring
myself that I'm content and alright.
But I want to play the guitar,
sing, dance, draw; anything but fight
a battle I don't try enough to win.
I want to cook, be pretty, smile,
be perfect & popular, but while
I sit here, wistfully typing and wishing,
my chances to change are slowly finishing.

He was as sweet as anything
could ever be. A passionate,
yet gentle lover. A beauty seen
only once a lifetime. A gentleman
whose manners were so humble he
radiated perfection.A jewel so
precious, that everyone fought
for him. An angel from above
they said. An angel.

Yet as we argued for him, we
turned our backs to him, too
busy concentrating on each
other to see the wicked smirk
he wore. We turned a blind eye
to the things he did and said. We
refused to accept that he was a
demon. A devil.

We refused to see that as he
spread his white wings, his shadows
spread *****, gnarled limbs. That
as he smiled, his face contorted into
something akin to malice. That as he
glowed of innocence, his bright halo
blinded us from his hidden horns.

We refused to accept that he was
the Devil disguised as an Angel.

All because we loved him.

I try and try
to change my
inevitable doom;
but it's all
for naught.

I try and try
to keep loving,
but the passion
soon leaves and
I'm left loveless.

I try, I swear, I try,
to hold onto my love,
but soon I find myself
growing bored of them.

I've gone through a lot
of them: the good, the sweet,
the bad, the funny, the shy,
the smart - many!

But soon I find myself
growing so, so bored
of them. I never cheat,
never flirt, never do
anything bad that could
break the relationship.

But then there's the catch -
be the good girl, but in return,
become unloving; never
fall in love, no matter how
hard you try to love.

I try, I honestly do,
but when I'm in a
relationship, a month or
so later, I find myself
bored and frustrated with
the poor victim.

I'm just a heartbreaker who
kills her victims on the inside.

I don't mean to, but I do.

I just can't love.

Why,

Why am I so loveless?

Colored lips, new shoes, pretty clothes,
Eyes that scan the crowd for you, desperate.
A beating heart fluttering weakly in longing,
A blush as those eyes gaze lovingly at you.

Hesitance, fear, anxiety, worry and excitement,
Those tanned legs walk to you, quickly,
For those eyes may lose your figure,
And ruin the perfectly planned day.

Hope,
Hope for gaining your attention,
Hope for a long conversation,
Hope for an embrace.

Disappointment,
As you walk away.
Hurt,
As your eyes focus on another.
Resignation,
As those tanned legs stop,
And turn around.

Gaze averted,
Those eyes refuse to look up.
Those tanned legs walk, quickly,
far, far away; running away, really.

Shoulders hunched inward,
A tense posture.
A frown marring a sharp face,
Then a blank stare.

Arriving at the bus,
Those eyes look up again,
In hope.
Then in disappointment.

Seeing no beloved,
Tanned legs walk in,
And a petite body sits alone,
A sad face staring blankly.

Suddenly a figure sits beside the flower,
A heart races in excitement and anticipation,
The rosy color of a blush appears on those tanned cheeks,
A bright and happy smile grace those small lips.

The world brightens,
Music is heard,
Colors are brilliant,
Air is sweeter.

Everything is perfect, finally.

A long conversation,
Laughter,
Playful jabs,
Close bodies.

The bus stops,
Time to go home.
Anticipation,
A promise - "I'll come over
In a little bit"

Patience,
It's five o'clock,
"He'll come"
It's six thirty,
"Maybe he's a little busy."

Seven o'clock,
Silence,
Eight o'clock,
Desperation,

Nine.
Overwhelming pain,
And hurt.
A pained smile.

Next day,
A smile painted,
Over a mask of joy,
Forced laughter.

"I wonder if he'll
be able to
come over today...
I can't wait."

Anticipation.
Excitement.
Hope.
Love.

You make me so happy...

And as I watched you kiss her, with such care, I cried.

The man I was in love with, didn't love me back.

And as I watched you wrap your arms around her waist, I cried.

He was so gentle and nice to me, that I fell in love.

And as I watched a blush splash across your face, as well as hers, I cried.

He reached out to me with the intent of friendship, nothing more.

And as I watched you pull her closer, I cried.

It wasn't his fault, it was mine, I had led myself on.

And as I watched you stop the kiss, only to gaze lovingly at her, I cried.

I cried, oh, how I cried.

I cried, not because it hurt, not because I was sad - but because I was overwhelmed with joy.

I cried, because these feelings I have for you, can now die, and I wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

I no longer had any reason to cry myself to sleep at night, when I caught you sneaking a loving peek at her.

I no longer had to feel ugly when I compared myself to her.

I no longer had to envy her beauty - both in character and in body.

I was free.

Free from the burdens that I put on myself.

So I cried.

I cried long and hard, because I was relieved, I was free, I was happy.

So please stay with her, because I want to be happy.

Let me be free from the burdens of love.

Many believe they are in love.
Couples say forever to each other,
kiss, hold hands, embrace, sleep
in the same bed - everything together.

But when I see you, I see true love -
you forgive, you come back, you do
everything; hug, kiss, hold hands,
sleep with him - always returning.

That's what you do.

He cheats on you, hits you, curses you,
leaves you; yet you still take him into
your arms when he returns, swearing that
he'll never ever do it again.

Yet you tell him you love him when
he tells you he hates you, you tell him
how perfect he is when he points out your
flaws, you apologize after you get angry
and talk back when he screams at you.

When his hand collides against your
cheek you cry, when he pushes you,
you stay on the ground, when he hits
you, you do nothing in defense.

You cry but forgive when he has his
arms around another girl's waist,
when his lips are kissing another's,
when his bed is shared with someone
else.

And when you've had enough, you
run away, you scream back, you hit
back, you confront, you finally
defend yourself.

Only to come back; to suddenly
become silent; to stop shoving and
slapping; to avoid; only to accept
him when he comes back, begging
that he won't ever do it again.

You forgive and he never forgets.

I see what it is that you have.
It's love. Foolish love. But nonetheless,
you hold love for a boy that will
never become a man.

Death is not as horrible
as it is said to be.

It relieves many people
burdened by this world
and its inhabitants.

Death causes people
to come closer than
any other time.

Death teaches us all
lessons that we are
too stubborn to learn.

Death frees people
from the expectations
and the frustrations.

Death gives us all
a sense of caution
we never had previously.

But at the same time,
Death makes us cry,
rage, despair, and
suffer.

It makes the people
around you and your
loved ones suffer.

My head rings painfully,
as my lips purse in hesitation.

Then they form a grimace,
a grimace full of pain.

My regrets are suffocating me,
I'm drowning in my darkness.

I want to ask you so many questions,
to tell you so many **** things.

It's so ******* loud in my head,
with words I silently scream.

Can you hear me?
My screams?

My agony?
My emotions?

I scream at you.
I talk to you.

Yet you obliviously walk around.
Not noticing anything.

I can't keep this up.
I'm going to eventually speak
these loud and passionate
words, one day.

Oh baby, let's burn
the night away,
let's light up the
sky with our burning
passion, that transcends
both understanding and
time themselves.

Oh baby, let's burn
brighter than any
star in the galaxy,
let our scathing love
scar life and history,
surpass the boundaries
of death and eternity.

I'm secluded
in my own
darkness, and
all I can do is
reach for the
light that I
know I'll
never reach.

My world
is slowly
falling
apart.
Someone
please
save me,
because I
can't save
myself.

Mother, please hold me in your arms.
Protect me from this evil world.
Mother, please, don't let me go.

Oh, how I cry,
how is it possible for
a human like me to cry so much?

I don't know, I am after all,
human.

Mother, I'm scared.
I don't know what to do.
This place is so horrid.

My tears never stop,
and still I wonder,
as my cries mutely echo,

how, oh how, is it possible for
me to cry so much? I am human after
all, and humans are what make
this world so, so cruel.

I need a hero, that will hold me every night that I can't sleep - when the nightmares are too strong for me to fight.

I need a hero, that will hold me every night that I can sleep - when life is so overwhelming and difficult that all I can do to battle against it, is leave and retreat into my mind's darkness.

It starts as something light and feathery.
No heavy, suffocating matter.
Something light and curious.

But then, over time it becomes stronger,
heavier, hard, hot, painful, suffocating.
So strong that it takes your breath away.

So horrifyingly magnificent,
that it causes you to cry out in shock.
It becomes dense and dark.

It becomes passionate.

The thing slowly killing you,
is a disease that many suffer through;
this Death is harsh, ugly and cruel in
many ways as it is soft, beautiful and caring.

It is a Death, a disease, called,

Love.

At home her mother only notices her if she
hadn't cleaned the puny apartment.
At school she is ignored; invisible.
She has a little brother that she always cares
about because her mother is out smoking
and trying to make money out of unfaithful men.
And as her mother spends all the money
on cigarettes and fake nails and cheap
clothes and hair products, it's all she can
do to stop herself from screaming and crying
out of unbearable hunger. And when kids at
school do notice her, they only criticize.
And when her mom gives her attention, it's
only to tell her to go clean or to grow the **** up.
And when she outstretches a desperate
hand to others for help, they don't see her.
And as her best friend leaves her for
others, she's all alone. So she reaches a desperate
hand to the sky and calls out for help, only
to be met with nothing. So she decides to meet
her beloved Savior, and makes the pain go away.
And as the police find her, they cover her
corpse and wonder why her arms and why her
hands seemed to be desperately reaching towards
*something, anything.

I live a different life every time I open a book.

There once was a time,
full of laughter and rhyme,
of so much dancing and singing,
until the ears were left ringing.
A time full of festive spirits & feasts,
but then there came the beasts.
They destroyed stability, harmony, and order,
and brought chaos, hate, and apocalypse.
They blew out the warm and beautiful light,
and assaulted the weak and innocent,
the angels tried to maintain peace,
and resisted with all their desperate might.
They tried to revert back to love,
believing in their deities from above,
but the outsiders; the strangers; the intruders didn't
let them, they obliterated them; it was a
massacre. Their blood graced the air with its dark
presence, it flew into the air in pained agony. It
scattered through the wind like frantic petals of
a dying rose. We loved it. It was such a pleasure.
We ***** them in any way possible; their minds,
their hearts, their souls, their beliefs, their hope,
their bodies. Everything. And we loved every
part of it. Every moment they screamed. Whether
it be physical, emotional or spiritual pain. We loved
it all. We loved it. You loved it. I loved it.

Once upon a time, holy souls roamed freely,
and we devoured them hungrily.

Because,

we're the monsters, the beasts, the demons,
the devils, the condemned, that God created.

When I finally admitted
how difficult life was

and how horrible humans
tended to make it for me

and how depressing I
made it for myself

I finally decided to work
on my life and myself

and then I realized just
how smooth and quickly

my life transitioned to joy;
became easy and fun; just
by trying my best.

I realized that actions
instead of words are
what make a difference.

Say something I'm
giving up on you,

I kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart
What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when...

I just wanna be deep in your love
And it's killing me when you're away

Ooh baby,

just killed a man
put a gun against his head
pulled my trigger, now he's dead

In my field of paper flowers
And candy clouds of lullaby
I lie inside myself for hours
And watch my purple sky fly over me

But in the end it
doesn't even matter

Even when you're by my side
I still need time to feel the company

Say something

He started as "him."

He then became "you."

He then ended as "him."