Friends.
They're weird,
they help you,
they hurt you,
they love you.
My two friends. They call me strong.
I like it.
They call me tough.
I like it.
They say I have high pain tolerance.
I like it…? No, ***** that.
When they say that, all it brings back is the years where I was beat every day.
They mean well.
But it haunts me,
the fact that I have a high pain tolerance but I grew it.
I didn't have it naturally.
I grew it. Because I was beaten to the point where
I
COULDN'T
FEEL
ANYMORE.
That's what happens.
You just get beat enough to the point where you don't feel it anymore.
This can’t happen anymore.
We need to end it.
This can't happen anymore.

Hurting people is easy.

like throwing a *Rock

into a still pond

the glass *-breaks-

r i p p l e s

and
                             down

              sinks
                                  the
                 *Rock*


but...

youll never know.

                                             how deep it went.

You told me
my sweater was ugly
but it's you
who's ugly
on the inside.

I go out of my way
to make people laugh
Because
people
went out
of their way
to make me cry.

I Will Combat
belligerent
ignorance
Every. *******. Time.
In My Way.

Saying Nothing
Encourages the
choking vines
to thrive,
nurturing Silence.

I heal hearts--
Ignorance took
a running start
to push over
My resolve.

Rip up the page,
Start again.
Another person
Stopped Listening.

I go out of my way
to brighten someone's day
Shared Laughs,
Shared Smiles.

How
Someone
Made You Feel--
That
Is what
You remember.

Do I need to
Be Remembered?
I would like to be.

But
If I have only
ever touched
your life
Once
I hope
You Remember
How
I made you feel.

The words that you’ve forced upon me are sad
I’ll take them anyways but you should know
That you can’t take them back

She’s soft and beautiful, kind and gentle,
But pushed so hard she’s over caring
Each new insult, a sliver of the mask cut away
Revealing the primal anger that
slumbers in us all.

Her eyes are gentle, bright and open -
Or at least, they used to be. They say eyes
Are the windows to the soul, but what if
Rocks and screams have shattered them
And only jagged glass remains?
It hurts to look at her now, to see the gaping
Holes where her soul used to be.

And that brave, beautiful heart of hers, the one
That  had an overabundance of love -
It’s closed off now, from itself and others,
And all the blood collects inside until it’s
Ready to burst.

And when all of it comes exploding out, a fountain
Of pain laid bare before you
There’s nothing left for you to do.
Look what you’ve done, this princess you now call
Monster.

Struggling in school everyday,
Feeling like I'm behind.
Struggling with basic math,
teachers making fun of me.
Hurting deep,
Not receiving any support I need.
Why does my brain work differently?
Teachers, students bullying me,
Is it my fault?

The pain runs deep,
With no one to understand.
Why does my brain work in ways they can't see?
Am I broken? Am I stupid?

Laughter echoes when I stumble,
Words like knives, they cut me thin.
I wonder, is this my fault?

Students, teachers bullying me,
How long will it last?

I am a misfit since age 14
I used to have friends before then
But they all turned out to be fake
I was a misfit since age 14
But that don’t mean broken
Crayons can not colour
Of  I am a misfit….
Not dead
I have  been a misfit age 14
Being misunderstood  for
Everything and everything
But this I will say now I am
36 and I am no longer a
Misfit
I am a someone who matters
With I fit in or not

I am at the zenith
Of my
A
    N
        G
           E
              R


I am at the zenith
Of my
E
    M
          O
               T
                   I
                       O
                            N
                                 S

And why
                       D
                     O
                    P
                  E
                O
             P
           L
        E
Act like unsubs

Screams thrown in my face like acid,
making my skin burn to a crisp.
Harsh words stab into me,
venom sinking in my bones,
forever engraved in my soul.

A daze clouds my brain,
I don't know what I did,
what I do know is I caused this.

The problem that everyone has,
all stems from the mistake that is me.
My presence in the room is enough to **** any mood.
I'm just sad I had to leave so very soon.

Memories blurred and tears left unshed,
Words of my existence praised with dread.
Almost as if they weren't calling me curses back then.

But over time people spat poison on my name,
I guess nothing ever changed.
But I guess this was always my fate.

I thought people liked you more when dead?
Oh, well that's a shame.  
Too bad it's the end.