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I always smile seeing you happy,

I cry inside cause my heart is heavy.

I got drunk on a club,

Just to feel my heart numb.

In a wall I unleash my fury,

I never needed sympathy…


True I am wasted,

All my sorrow made me frustrated…

Longing to see you…

And show what this love can do…

I wanna write you novels and poems,

In many kinds and forms…


I wanna make you laugh..,

and to hear you bluff…

I want you to hit me with a broom,

In my head, and hear a boom…

I wanna feel you’re fist in my face,

I’ll pretend it’s just a phase…


I want to go to jail,

I don’t care if you don’t veil…

If you’re drunk, I’ll carry you in my back…

I will still carry you, until I hear it crack…

And I don’t care if they call me “fool”!

Cause I’ve cried and the bucket are almost full.


I had fallen a thousand times…

But I am innocent of all my crimes…

Tell me why we can never be?!

Life without you is empty.
Today my computer committed suicide.
He didn't leave a note and there were no warning signs.
If only the drawing desks were not so high,
then maybe he wouldn't have jumped off the side.
I'm sorry I left, my darling.
I get ****** up in my own
world. Your words have
touched me so, that I haven't stopped
thinking about them,
and how I can't let them be for me
anymore. Your words are
far too precious to be mine
and I do not deserve you.
Today, I will be brave.
I will admit to the fact that I still haven't found that happiness I've been searching for.
It could be the fact that I haven't looked hard enough, or maybe I've just been looking too hard.
It could be the fact that there's a hormone in our bodies called serotonin, but my therapist says that I don't produce enough and that's why I have this thing that she calls depression.

So I take pills to make me feel better and that might be weird, you can think that if you want because the truth is that I think I'm weird too. Sometimes I think my weirdness is good, I can make people laugh if I really want to and I think that's pretty cool but there's also a bad weirdness to me that makes me feel really sad even though my life truly isn't all that bad but I can't help it. I can't just tell myself that everything's going to be okay because sometimes I don't even think I believe that anymore.

But today, I will be brave.
I will admit to the fact that yes, I have scars. But you know what? I have a birth mark on my right leg. I have freckles on my arms, I have ten fingers and a heart that pumps blood into my lungs and my lungs help me breathe. I have brown eyes and approximately one hundred and fifty hairs growing out of my eyelids that protect them from dust.

Yes, maybe I have purposely tried to hurt myself but so what? People say that whatever doesn't **** you only makes you stronger. Well I must be pretty **** powerful because every day is a war between life and death and I may not think that I'm beautiful, or smart, or worthy, but I have a broken heart that's still beating and a terrifying mind that is still able to think about the children in Africa and the people suffering from cancer and the lonely girl in my class that I wish I had the courage to talk to and tell her that we are all human. We may not feel that we deserve to be alive but we have blood coursing through our veins and purity in our souls and mouths that are capable of speaking every single language in the world and brains that hold an infinite amount of knowledge and bones that allow us to move and hearts that can love.

So please, be brave.
Put the gun down. Step away from the bridge, throw the pills away, untie the knot and stay with us. Use your bones to lift your hand and place it to the left of your chest and feel the vibration of the most important ***** in your body pulsing, keeping you alive. And that, my friend, is called purpose. You are still here despite everything that's ever happened to you. You survived the day when your best friend stopped calling and the day you waited two hours for that person who never showed up and the day you got picked up early from school to have your parents watch you get beat up on the playground and that's the day when they realized that their daughter is a loser but it's okay because you survived. You ignored the monster in your mind that is constantly knocking on doors but never being let in because you had the courage to say "stop. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to feel good about myself."

You are not a freak. You are not a loser. You are not fat, you are not ugly, you are not stupid. You are sixty percent water, sixty-five percent oxygen, eighteen percent carbon and one hundred percent human. Do not hate your body, you're beautiful. Do not hate your scars. Love them. Learn from them. Be the person who can say "yes, life was a battle and I didn’t come out untouched. I was beaten down and torn apart and bleeding from the skin and the heart. But I won." You conquered the bloodiest war, and you are so brave.

Yes, life is full of grief, and tragedy, and so much pain. Life is full of evil people and sickness and days where all you want to do is just get out of this place with so much hatred and cruelty and unfairness. But I have seen someone helping a stranger on the sidewalk, children holding doors open for the elderly, and love. So much love. And that's gotta be enough. We have to find a reason. We have to discover that one thing that will save us; that one good thing in this world that will give us hope. Hope that some day, things will be better.

But today, we will be brave.
Braver than yesterday, yet not as brave as we will be tomorrow. We will wake up with a smile on our face, and we will look in the mirror and say to ourselves:

"We are not our parents, we are not our siblings, or our teachers, or our friends, or our enemies. We are only ourselves. But one day, we will become doctors, we will become writers and lawyers and activists and dancers and rock stars. We will be mothers and fathers and lovers. We will not be perfect. But one day, our bruises will heal and our scars will fade and our pain will lessen and our smiles will become genuine. We will admit to the fact that bad days happen, but we will have so many good days and those are the ones that matter. We will not be our past, we will not be our mistakes, we will not be our fallen tears or our heart aches. We will be human, and one day, we will change the world."
It's October 15
Desolation swallows me like the whale of Jonah.
I'm trapped there,
I can see into the deep brown abyss,
That there's not an inkling in your meticulously well-groomed head.
Oh It's Tuesday.
Apathy is the worst punishment.
i came here to write, not play iSpy with turtles in the duck-crap encrusted, man-made lake of the park i grew up going to
i came here to tell a story. the story about the way your eyes were in between green and brown and how i always told you they were very ugly because hatred and love-written-in-Times New Roman-and-printed-then-ripped-to-shreds were your only two emotions (but we were in seventh grade then and i actually didn't say any of that because i actually thought you were perfection manifested into the form of a bowl-cut haired Iranian boy)
i came here to paint the walls of your room sanguine instead of Southern sky blue (it's blood, not paint (that's why i'm laughing)) and tattoo words i don't know the definition to all over your inner thighs (i'll use my mouth if you want, even though i already told you i wasn't here to fool around)
actually, i came here to tell you that i love you
As my words turn to ink, I begin to think,
Do I create the words, or do the words create me

(work in progress)
Don't you remember?
We were best friends.
We loved each other.
Don't you remember?
We talked about the future.
Everything seemed so certain.
So what happened?
Everything went from "is" to "was"
and "yes" to "maybe."
So what happened?
The time I used to spend with you
I now spend wondering where I went wrong.
Am I to blame?
I let things get out of hand.
I let you have your way.
Am I to blame?
I fought too hard
when I should have let you go.
So where do we go from here?
You pull me in close
when you feel like it.
So where do we go from here?
I want to be strong,
but I want you, too.
Why do we do this to each other?
We paint targets on each other's backs;
targets no one else can see.
Ready. Aim. Fire!
You hit me hard
right through my heart.

Pain travels throughout.
It makes no sense to me. We see
these targets and know they're
wrong.
Why keep shooting?

I want to scrub yours off
but you insist on wearing it like a trophy.
A trophy of what?
There's nothing to celebrate in pain.

Need to think
A way to get through to you
I know
You know that you know also.
This need not be a tragedy.
It's 11:11 and I stopped making wishes a long time ago
until you gave me a dime to throw in the fountain
how could I waste that?
So I made a big wish and hoped the extra worth in coin meant something.
Thought that it was going to
come true
but it didn't and now it's 11:11 and I'm wishing it anew.

It's 11:11 and I stopped making wishes a long time ago
then you picked that wishful flower
and I couldn't resist
the gesture was just too wonderful.
So I made a wish and blew
while standing next to you hoping it'd come true
but it didn't and now it's 11:11 and I'm wishing it anew.
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