She told a lie.
A secret so awful it turned into a lie.
She also swore to protect a solemn promise.
Meant to last an eternity.
Yet here she was, staring back at the judge.
How she held her head up ; she knows not.
Lie to protect?
Or to tell the truth and loose...
This isn't what she invisioned her integrity would be tested as.
Heavy heart. Dry mouth. Shakey hands.
And a heart screaming louder than all of the unheard ones she drowned deep down inside.
This is it. For too long has she stayed strong.
Is it right? Is it wrong?
No time for that now. Your safety and theirs both stand on the line.
Say it.

I feel like a stranger in my own home.
An outsider.
The lodger that has outstayed their welcome.
When are these feelings going to fade?
As though the cycle of my youth has started again.
Pressure.
Pressure to get a proper job.
Pressure to find someone to settle down with.
Pressure to be someone I don’t want to be.
Pressure to live up to the same standards as everyone else.
Pressure to be independent. Not just independent in the sense as we know it but in the financial sense.
Pressure to be thin.
Pressure to be as thin as my mum.
How do I break away from those projections of frustration, of disappointment, of self-loathing?

Growing up takes
Miles of challenges
Making mistakes
Tests of patience.

Admit shortcomings
Isn't easy to process
Embrace imperfections
Is maturity in progress.

Anticipate tomorrow
With hopes for the better
A sign willing to show
Efforts to start over.

Responsibility is a word
Adults work hard to pay
It is but a tough world
We fight to live another day.

Battles of inner peace
And the harsh reality
I want nothing but ease
To be remembered kindly.

I miss the person I was in elementary school: the innocent, untampered little girl that I was.
The girl I was before the world snatched me from my innocence and poisoned my mind.  
I yearn for the girl who only cried because she skinned her knee or her tummy hurt.

I regret the person I was in middle school, not for who she was but for the person she was becoming, I bitterly regret allowing the world get to her, for it changed her; it altered her in tremendous ways.
She became dismantled, unrecognizable to the girl she was just a few years ago. She fell into the world’s hands, and the world destroyed her, it took her and impaled her with negativity and poison.
For that was just the beginning of the girl, she would become in high school.

You see that's the tragedy of growing up; you lose the things in life that truly made you happy, things you didn't have to compromise your happiness for.
When you grow up your trade the simplistic and the care-free life for a more brutal and agonizing one.
Waking up and having your whole body hurt, and your eyes red and puffy from crying all night, but once you walk into those glass doors it suddenly disappears -- almost like it never existed almost like you never felt those things at all.
But that's just the thing: it was all real and you still indeed feel that way, but you simply cover all that pain and all that emotion with a mask.
Because you know it is harder to show how you really feel than covering it.
And that mask keeps toying with your emotions and so then you are stuck between missing who you used to be and hating who you are now.

We are the teens who jump to conclusions who smash beer in the street, walk fast and try to soothe ourselves with ***** water

We are the teens who cry for a song feeling alone but surrounded by people
Who replace hurt with *** and hide our pain by waiting until maybe finally something good happens

We are the teens who go home every day and miss everyone who made our life worth living

We are the loud *** teens who smoke and drink and get 100s on tests and love themselves and are happy about it

We are the teens who get gelato and are homies with our host families and jump in with our clothes on

We are the teens who look at the waves and the height and think the wind blowing is beautiful

We are the teens who overuse the word love because we lack it in our lives

We are the teens who have to give it to each other because maybe not everyone loves us the way we want them to

Maybe that’s why we don’t love the people who want us to

Dear Room,

You have been pink
You have been blue
And yellow, then pink again
I even drew Whinnie the poo

And now you're white
With one wall blue
And I have loved 15 years with you

Soon another little girl may burst in
With different color to choose
But I will always remember
That you were me, and I was you

means allowing yourself to give up
means breaking your own heart to save whats left
means forgiving
means gifting yourself a chance to heal

My life is a black comedy, its airtime rapidly evaporating
the autumn of my childhood’s eden.

Don’t look at that piece of mirror,
For I will tell you something to shiver…
Hey you,
You have changed so much!
Those long curls of hair bend smoother,
Your skin’s turned fairer and fuller,
You look the perfect strength and size;
And your mouth talks much smarter,
With your eyes better awake to things around of you!
Hey you,
You know you have changed so much!
But it’s just that,
Your lips don’t smile full-face like they used to!
You talk wise, but are a bundle of paradox within;
Hiding behind curtains of “everything’s fine!”
You look composed but are bleeding to death;
Wounded by chaotic battles fought inside your head!
You got more friends but fewer people who count,
You are learning the ways of life,
And are hurting with your own judgments!
You are winning quite often,
And have lost to victory from endless desires and lusts!
You pretend to be more wholesome,
But are groping for every companionship, except for yourself!
Maybe you have drifted from yourself ashore;
And are you even listening to me anymore?