Every time I attempt to sit down with my mom and talk about my mental state She somehow warps the story into the idea that I am simply stressed out because I am not trying hard enough in school And I sit there and take her words Shoving them down my throat in an attempt to make them fact But they do not fit the gaping hole in my chest Her words are mismatched puzzle pieces trying to portray two different pictures But she’s not wrong School is one of the causes of my anxiety but not in the way she thinks it is I walk into school every day a new lollipop flavor in my mouth Hands shoved into pants pockets A false swagger used as a shield So they don’t know that I cried myself to sleep last night I have created the perfect girl She walks into the room Smile bold and blazing like the summer sun A new joke slips past her lips Causing her classmates to hunch over in stitches And in those seconds she wipes the remaining tears from when she cried because she looked in the mirror for too long The girl I come to school as Has a heart of gold And her arms wide open to embrace everyone she sees She holds them close to her chest so they don’t see her cry She walks into a room Bold and brash and brazen Shouting Look at me I am a star Look at me I am shining Why don’t you see me shining? Notice me Notice my happiness Notice my confidence Notice my high self-worth I shout and I shout and I shout All so they won’t notice the cracks and creases on my exterior This girl that I am from the moment she steps into the building Until the moment she touches down on her bed Walks like the world is her runway Flashes her painted on smile like it's her ticket to happiness Her skin is stitched together by quirky comments Corny jokes And faux vibrato that reverberates in her chest so she can shout my words out to the room as if she is the Queen of the world The fictional heroine I composed A character I have created because no one wants to be friends with the girl who dreams of killing herself No one wants to be friends with the girl who shoves her fist in her mouth at 2:00 in the morning Hoping to choke down her sobs so she would not bother anyone No one wants to friends with the other part of me The one who puts the lollipop in her mouth to block the screams from ripping out her throat To cease the quivering of her voice The one who twirls the stick in her fingers so you won’t notice the violent shaking of her hands as she looks for something to hold onto Something to control Something to rip Something to shred To hopefully not tear out her hairs and huddle into a ball in the corner of the classroom So she keeps ******* on that stick of comfort To steady her nerves To not cry out Help Me For this is not their problem Not their baggage to drag behind them Her shoulders have become pedestals for her pain Because it is hers alone to carry They do not need to see it I have come to the conclusion that I am a pathological liar a body snatcher who transforms into the person she dreams of being every ******* day and you may call this identity theft because she’s not truly me The little girl that I truly am deep down inside is still afraid of the dark Still scared of heights Still petrified of clowns But she’s even more horrified by the thoughts that run around in her own mind She’d rather face a thousand killer clowns on the top of Mount Everest in the middle of the night Than sit alone with her thoughts in her hands Weeping out the story of a girl who’d rather die than keep breathing half of the time Tears clog my eyes and blur my vision I can feel the oxygen slipping out of my lungs I can feel the heat pool in my chest I can feel them start to shrivel Hyperventilation occurs As I begin to heave my chest outwards hoping to fill this void I can’t breath I can’t breath I can’t breath I can’t- I grab a lollipop out of my bag Fingers quivering like fall leaves I Rip off the wrapper and throw it into the trash Just as if it was the little girl I place its perfect pink roundness between my lips and hold it there I inhale I exhale And I feel the smirk plaster itself onto my face I sense my eyes flicking to a lighter color I sit back down at my desk Twiddle my thumbs Insert a sly comment into the conversation And they laugh They laugh so loud that they don’t hear the cracking of my heart The little girl is sleeping now And I foolishly hope She won’t wake up Ever Again
i am beginning to feel as if i am slipping but i will get through this
If it were up to me you see, I would've been holding your hands from the beginning. If it were up to me, pens would feel comfortable between your fingers, poetry would feel natural flowing from your lips If it were up to me it would feel less of sandpaper and concrete Instead, more of silk and lollipops to your tongue in the middle of summer If it were up to me you wouldn't hate summer, you would adore it If it were up to me you'd look forward to fresh strawberries and mangoes, the wind hot on your face like my breath would be to your chest Curled up in your arms listening to your heart beat, waiting for you to stop wishing for it to stop If it were up to me I would lay by your side each night, holding you close, patiently waiting for you to slip into slumber before letting myself do the same If it were up to me I'd keep you from anything harmful If it were up to me the sun in the morning would signify survival, not failure If it were up to me the sunset would paint the sky with reds and oranges and purples every night to give you a reason to keep going If it were up to me you'd look in the mirror and see the stars in your eyes rather than storms If it were up to me your cheeks would be stained with loving pink kisses from the sun rather than tears made of salt and self loathing If it were up to me you would've held my hands and felt content from the start, rather than grasping onto them hoping to find something Other Than Summer
sugar boy, your heart is caked like a treat, soft as a bendy gummy; but your eyes are what get at me, for they shine like those glow-in-the-dark rubber bands that little kids played with.
sugar boy, you're as sweet as those dum-dum lollipops. your smile is as gentle as a little, innocent kid who is listening for the ice cream truck. your tears, however, look so salty and burn your face with blackness.
sugar boy, i'll wipe away those tears. i'll make them fade by a soft kiss on the lips. i'll caress your ginger colored cheek with my dry hands, i'll make us both sweet lovers, both so imperfect.
I wonder how your lips would taste? Would they be sweet Like how I think They would be? Soft like marshmallows? Firm like a lollipop? Supple like gummies? Smooth like chocolate? But no matter how they taste, I just hope you like ice cream.