It's not your fault if he doesn't say hi as you walk by.
It's not your fault if she doesn't seem to know you exist.
But it's not their fault either.
It's not your fault if you feel too much or nothing at all.
And if it gets bad, there's nothing wrong with curling up in a ball.
We all need an escape.
This is an important one.
It is NOT your fault if you get addicted to the drugs or the drink.
It's not your fault if you get so stressed, you can't eat, sleep, or think. It's not your fault
Because bad things, confusion, sadness, stress, loss, anger...it happens to everyone. It's not a choice.

My eyes are closed
My snores take up the air
Your hand slides up my
Thigh and your fingers
Run through my hair
My eyes stay shut
And your hands roam
My cries stay silent
As you are in my room
Your hands venture deeper
Than any had gone
My eyes watered and
I tried to yawn
My cry turned to a sob
As I realized I could not
Tell my mom
As I looked in the mirror
That next day
I realized bad things
Seemed to always come my way
My eyes welled with tears
And I pulled out my hair
Screaming but still
Knowing no one
Really cared.

My knees, ankles bruised
By the stones they threw
Running for a better world
Can't even see a thing clearly
Coz my head is spinning
Fainted by the words they used
My eyes are bleeding with tears
This road would never end
My life would melt like ice
On a sunny day, half naked

I'm too small
As small as a dot on the crumpled paper
I'm just one of thousands
Even invisible in this cruel world
Sheltered in a narrow and thin shells
Hiding behind the leaves which begin to change color
My first house
finally I was born
as something strange
I'm the ugly
My body covered with bristle
Feebly crawling along a twig
Gnaw the leaves around and make holes
Run away from the birds
Grappling with weaver ants
Makes me fell to the ground
Until my bristle loss and scattered
Only a worm greets
They hate me so
I could get killed, not all of them accept
until I'm stuck in another dimension
I'm the lonely hiding caterpillars
Imprisoned inside a small obsolete pouch
Trying to **** time
Struggling in the darkness to reach beauty
That's enough of this stopover
wade through the rigors of the long wait that handcuff
I was reborn
being different and they like me
Abundant happiness arrives
fly indefinitely with both my beautiful wings
penetrate malignancy to explore the horizon

I hate my body. Okay, I said it. I look in my mirror and think how did this happen and why. I contemplate bad things. I do the bad things. The bad things don't work like I wanted them to. My body is still a bad thing. I am so ashamed. I can't even let my love look at me. I hate my body and what it has become. Now I try to do good things. If good things don't work, I do bad things to make the good things work now. Will my body ever be a good thing? I think walking in the door and staring at your reflection and breaking out in tears when you realize how you looked the whole day is enough to make one want to rid these bad things. But isn't the irony so that to rid the bad things one must do more? Bang. Slash. Swallow. Beep. This is me leaving. This is me leaving my hated body behind. This is me doing bad things to my bad body.