The greenery of this place never fooled me
The sky just looks so fake,
the clouds are drawn on.
Im at the park on the swings
I need to feel something in my stomach before I waste away at the young ripe age of 5

Just 8 years later getting fingered on the same slide I was afraid of as a little girl
The wind from the past keeps the swings on the playground moving higher
Doing the things that are bad for me
Just to feel lighter

When I'm 15 I have no place to be
No one and nothing to call home
Not even my body is somewhere I know.  
I pop a xannie for the thrill
Hoping that stranger I messaged will take me away from the godforsaken place

This stupid park that holds me so captive.
Run away can't face what is happening
In my head, I'm already dead
Nothing is real
take a Xanax
I only like doing the things that are bad for me
I only like feelings if they're going to make me bleed
I don't care about the context
Of my universal insignificance, I can't even repent. Sitting here on the floor. Higher than the swings ever brought me.
Crashing harder and harder each time I speak.
I can't get off the swing.

The walls are caving in,
but I can’t remember if I built them or if they’re just the ghosts of where I’ve been.
Your name is the ember in my chest—
I’m always burning,
but I can’t figure out why yet.

I wear your touch like a tattoo
etched into my skin
but it’s fading,
and I wonder if I can really feel it anymore
or if I’ve just learned to forget the ache.

My hands tremble like an abandoned house in a storm,
looking for something to hold,
but everything I touch slips between my fingers
like time,
Like memories,
Like all the parts of me I forgot and can't remember,
And like all the people who promised to stay but never did.

I was naive to think love was the key
to unlock this bottomless abyss inside my ribs and inside my chest,
but now I'm just fading away,
like the echoes of voices I never wanted to hear but make me feel so much less lonely.
I fill the silence with smoke
and stories that don’t belong to me—
Or perhaps stories that were lived through my eyes but I can't actually see.

I’m running from the ghosts of myself,
but they don’t let me go.
They pull me back to that place,
In that house
where I learned that pain is the only thing that ever feels real.
The higher I go,
The more I feel,
The greater the risk
the harder I crash.

But I can't stop.
I only let the blood mix with the rain.
I beg the sky for answers,
but the clouds never speak,
Forcing my to gather my own perception of peace.

I wanted to be saved.
By anyone other than myself
I wasn't ever taught to fly
But I learned to jump
And I jumped so high I found a cloud
One far away, one that's a lot less loud.
It's safer up here

I am just a concept.
shapes twisting, moving, changing,
taking on new and familiar forms,
fading and brightening, becoming new colors,
colors that may not even exist yet.
as one piece of me falls out of focus, another fills the void,
sometimes just shapes and colors, I'm unrecognized
other times, the shapes get smaller, more specific,
piecing together a collage of misshapen pieces,
ultimately giving the illusion of unity, of purpose.
i ask myself if how I'm seeing myself is how others do.
everyone pieces these shapes together differently,
creating a new being unique to them that i cannot precieve.
to them, i am those ideas, that shape,
and others can say what they see,
change what others see of me,
influence other's perception of myself.
to me, i am constantly changing,
constantly evolving,
the me that i can precieve is just a concept,
in that light i am just a thought, nothing more.

I am not apart of my body
And I'm not apart of my mind
These places aren't real and neither am I-
I find comfort in this feeling, oddly satisfied.  

I fade away forgetting the pain
Stuck in this haze
I can't seem to reciprocate a single conversation
Slipping away they think my fate is seldom at the devil's gate
But truly I am just dissociating away.
I can't seem to remember what it was they hated
But I no longer feel the weight of all that's been done to me
Spinning freely away from your gaze.

My memory is stuck. Someone took a key and locked it up and these painful thoughts seep through the bars causing me to feel ajar, I feel panicked I feel disgusted. The pain I thought I hid from is now being digested.

Piece by piece get it back in tiny parts, float away and forget the pain please protect my heart. I can't seem to remember what it was you've done to me, but I know in my bones, my body never felt like home, because it was you who had injected me and infected me, with your sick sticky specimen, locked up in your basement den, ruining my mind teaching me to fly.

My head is nearly leaking methanol disguise my self hide it all. I believe I'm a doctor I know I can prescribe it all myself. Self medicated nose full of Xanax lines i can't seem to get inside my head. Heart is bursting out my chest, lungs are full of cigarettes, God It was such a mess I loved it. The chaos he created, made me replicate it, a cycle of doom there's so many men in my room, who am I anymore?  

Front view right above myself just so I can watch my body rotting. This self destructive part of me is so **** exhausting. How come no one sees my cries how come no one saves me from these lies. Im feeling lonely. Each person came and took a awfully big piece of me I'm starting to fall apart so easily.

Sixteen years feels like too much.
When all you've felt is enough
The cold bitter wind just let this be the end of me, so maybe I can float away for real this once instead of in my mind
I can't make it this time.

The goddess in the wind, kissed me tenderly and told me it's time to win. I felt the warmth and I started to sing, that's when I turned 18 and you gave me a ring, we rebuild all the parts they broke together, and while I may still float away, my angel boy is there to catch me when the wind blows me too far away, slowly and tenderly wrapping my torn heart in his arms,
He saved me.

Time stands still
So high up
I, too
Stand still

Still, like an old book on a shelf
Having spent years longing for use
Watching the world go by
While I remain unchanged
Glued to this shelf
Immovable
A testament to my patience
Or perhaps my naivety
Naive enough to believe it’ll end
Naive enough to hope

These hands feel nothing
Unfamiliar in nature
Alien
And I
Still book on a shelf
Ragged
Worn
Crumpled in all the wrong places
Tearing at the seams
Crafted from different materials

But built similar
By a familiar something
Close enough to normal
But not normal enough to be close
Close to those who I love
And those who love me

Solitary
Esoteric
Safely tucked away
But forever alone
Forever stuck
Here on this shelf
Where everything changes
But me

i stay out of it more than i used to,
painting pictures on a metaphorical canvas.
anything is possible if i want to
find something that catches on,
leave everything else that matters
and turn away from it all.

i have great conversations with myself,
drawing memories like a string to wrap and tighten.
i live and die keeping it to myself
with every thought that spills through
like gasoline, begging for a lighter.
i stay out of it more than i used to.

i can remember the crisp winter air on my exposed skin in the courtyard

i can remember the way you said my name, colder than the air around us

i can remember your eyes on me, your hands, pinning me there

i can remember their eyes on me, their mouths gone where they should be

i can remember the fear in my heart, pumping out an SOS with every beat

i can remember grabbing your hands to get them off my body

i can remember wishing one of them would put their hands on yours

i can remember running for my life towards the single-stall bathroom

i can remember flashes of my thirteen years in slow motion

i can remember relief as my days of racing boys proved its worth

i can remember slamming that door, but not locking it, but i guess i did

i can remember you on the other side pounding your fists into the door

i can remember the way you called my name this time; teasing, taunting

i can remember your footsteps growing distant as i sank to the floor

i don’t remember how or when i got the strength to pick myself back up

i don’t remember much else of that day, that week, that month, that year

i don’t remember a time i wasn’t afraid of being not quite fast enough