In November early, I planted true,
A yew, golden under Pagan moon,
It's fibers I laid into moist dark soil
And set her proudly in foggy shawl.

Before six moons had turned down,
Her needles fell out of limbs frozen,
By wind and rains *****, unclothed—
Sun-clad boughs now fodder to moon.

Sitting beside each other
singing tales of our misfortune
wondering what life's chef
would cook up
a new disaster to be
served piping hot
with a side of irrelevance
that only one
who has eaten knows
its bitter taste

Beautiful is you,
Your beauty shines brighter than a million suns,
You fill a room with smiles every time you walk in,
You don't realize how beautiful you are,
And every time I see you you fill me up with excitement,
I wish to hug you and I may,
But for now just as a friend,
No matter how sweet and loving I am,
Your beauty, your life, your past will not permit a kiss of love

"When I die I'll go to heaven because I've spent my time in hell"
But shush, perse your lips,
Don't you ever tell.

This life has been a wicked spell,
A curse in the mirror,
A twist in my head,

Miss fortune in my luck,
Bad luck in my heart,
For when my time comes
It is in fact hell
that I shall depart.

wake up every 5 am with coffee stains under your eyes
the bitter analytic was once a child with daisies in her hair but now there's only demons in her head
she wasn't beautiful as the ocean but she had the depth
the type that always noticed the shift in the air after midnight
bright eyes turned into her mother's, sullen and pitiless
they told her to stop looking at the stars and to start looking at her future
soft hands turned into her father's, brutal and calloused
they told her to stop fixing people and to start fixing herself
there was a child with roots in her veins and hands softer than flower petals
she talked about the universes stamped on her fingerprints and compared them to the bark of trees
but now she only talks to her demons
the ones that ripped the daisies out of her hair
you watch the news, think "oh, how horrible", when someone's been murdered and feel horrible when you realize you didn't feel a thing
grab a coffee, always black, rub your eyes and hope you get through the day without malfunctioning
the earth gave her a youth her parents couldn't offer her but the world took that away
this isn't growing up, this is oblivion

No matter HOW many times or how DEEPLY I explain to you my problems or feelings you can NEVER help me.

You can never
End my internal suffering,
Which is like a heavy vine suffocating
My SOUL.

Do words mean nothing?

Because in other words I AM BEGGING you for help, find me a psychiatrist or some medication.

I can NOT constantly fight against myself ANYMORE.

My mind gets weaker each time I try and HOLD UP.

Will no one save me from my own misery?

I AM HELPLESS.... v.v

What is life if not one big lie
You're told stories of Santa as a child only to find he doesn't exist
He can't get you the pony you wanted, nor the spy kit
You're told you can be anything you want to be then later discover you can't
You can't snap your fingers and have enough money for the proper education to be what you want
You most likely weren't born into a role suitable for your liking
You're told that if you stay true to yourself you'll be happy
Yet, if you eat how you want, dress how you want, listen to the music you want, even love who you want, you will be judged and ridiculed which brings nothing but a downward spiral of depression
You're told i love you by a lot of people, but when you really need them where are they
You're told that you're lucky to live in the land of the free, however, we're trillions of dollars in dept and there are people in shelters because they haven't a home
So tell me
Where is the truth in life