Sitting alone at the top of these stairs
I ponder the reason for my existence
In a world where lies are truth and truth is rare
I'm searching for motivation to stay persistent
My thoughts drop bomb shells through my mind
I hide in trenches of sleep to undermine
The endless mine field that is my time
here
Thinking I should do something of my youth
While waiting for my time to tick by
My hours are spent in a fruitless search for truth
What will I do when I find it will I start being alive
Or on the contrary will I see it's time for me to die
If there's no one there to do it will I decide to suicide
What would I try there are so many different ways to die
Will I drink cyanide
Or simply close my eyes
See what happens
When I ponder my existence
I fall into a spiral of thoughts much too intense
For a young fresh brain like the one inside my head
I'm messing myself up is it too late to step away
I know right on the surface
It is too late
My body's at the top of these stairs
Fourth story
And my mind is some place else
I can't fix the lens I see the world through
Is it broken is it warped or is it perfectly true
Do I see the world as it really is
Is everyone else blind
Are you the one who's crazy
Are you leaving me behind
I twist in my seat
And tap my restless feat
I need to get up and run
Jump into the sun
Leave this room with these putrid aliens
Why will try to control and contain
me
Why are you forcing me into this box
I won't fit too many loose ends STOP

Just let me spill onto the carpet
And when the sun comes out I'll evaporate
That sounds like a horrible way to go
It would be so painful
I'm sorry for the puddles
That turn into clouds
Then when they're too much of that
They drip back onto the ground
It's an endless cycle of agony
That goes round and round
I feel like a puddle
Turning into a cloud
The best of me floating away
Leaving a boring stain
And ugly mark the only thing left
To remind us of the pain

If I drink
Then I have a reason
If I smoke
Please excuse my freedom
If I pop a pill
Then know I'm no good
I'm just a accident on this ****** of a world
Where everyone I trust, turns
Where everyone I love,
Hates
Where all the people I'm surrounded by,
Are always late


But hey,
I'm working on getting out
I'm working on it,
You can hear it in my shout
You can see it in my shudder
You can taste it in my tears
You can smell it in my hate
You can touch the wound
But I'm still as good as a freshly new groom.

I'll be doing better by the time you get back
I swear I won't be as intoxicated as I was
When you turned your back.

I have a bad habit
of falling for
messed up people.
Maybe it’s because
my own sadness
recognizes theirs.

So darling, let's fall in love

and apart.

Happy 6 months sweetie! I love you so much <3

6 months
120 some days

but all i remember are the nights
of loneliness

staring at the ceiling
wondering a million what-ifs
and what-did-i-dos

what if i never brought it up
what if you never texted her
what if we just talked
what did i not do that she did
what did i do that wasn't enough
not skinny enough?
not kind enough?
not perfect enough?
i've concluded
not enough

curling up
holding my stomach tight
breathing heavy into my pillow
so no one knew
my anxiety attacks about you

thinking about you
and then her
really leaves me here
to think with my mind unclear
left with a smear

nothing to do
no one to go to
but you

only
you are not there
not in the same way
as before

or at least
not for me

I’ve been scarred from head to toe so many times, it’s impossible to tell the old me from my recent history

My mind scarred from disease
                                       My feet from anxiety
My hands from guilt
                         My stomach from impurities


My heart scarred from betrayal, never to trust again
My ears from stupidity that never fails to turn on me

                                   My face from insomnia
My arms from inability
                                             My gut from fear
My shoulders from loneliness
                                         My fists from fights
My eyes from violence
                                     My knees from failure
My bones from pain
                              My ankles from weakness
My reputation from mistakes

And my soul from these dark clouds that refuse to fade...

****

Am I in love with him
Do I love him?
Is this what love feels like?
Or
Felt like...

Did I mess it up?
I think I did

******

I love to write poetry
But I’m afraid
I’m afraid of what they’ll think
I’m afraid they’ll think my poetry will **** because of my age
But I’m most afraid of people I know reading my poems
Because then they might see through my walls
Into my broken
Shattered
Messed-up
Crazy life
I don’t want anyone to worry about me
Or to try and protect me
Or fight my battles
Because that’s what I’m supposed to do for them
I’m suppose to worry about others
And shove my problems away
I’m supposed to protect others
And never worry about my pain
I’m supposed to help win their wars
Because I’m already losing my own