If there's a way to dig a little deeper into
       a new layer of skin, tap into
something in our bones that hasn't already
       been analyzed and speculated by
doctors under bright white lights on cold
       impersonal tables surrounded by
an army of masked, gloved and
       sanitary conscious individuals-
a method of existing that hasn't
       been romanticized and isn't cliche,
I'd really like to know.

       Because in vicious turbulent cycles I'm falling head first
for things that have been worshipped
       so many times in trance-like
moments of adolescent anguish and
       pretenses of solitude seeking introverts that lie
to themselves cause they don't have
       the guts to do it to others.

Who the hell is alright behind a smile masking a cringe?

       And all the tropes idolized and hymns
murmured by Sad folk
       don't really make you feel special anymore
cause you've lost your individuality
       by stepping into yet another trap.

But then again hating all things has long ago been branded as
       valueless, when in fact
values are the only things you're really searching for.

Remember that girl whom they would all fawn over,
Mistakes were nothing and prayers she received.
She had their back and knew every little answer to all problems so big.
She would bat her eyes and disallow tears.
She would keep her head up high and her shoulders rested.
They wondered why she walked so fast not a footprint to be left in the seeds and grass.
She had to get away.
Popularity was her biggest confusion.
Away she ran God forbid she would be alone.
She was.
She needed the time.
She was no god, nor did she wish to be idolized.
Everyone matters, she felt it in her heart.
As soon as the bad mood came and took its place, she ran, tripped, and cried on the concrete.
The crowd became paparazzi.
She didn't want to trend anymore.
Time was needed to deal but not heal what she couldn't.
They walked away.
That is all she
Ever
Wanted.

I’ve always been intimidated
By the man in the mirror
With his cocky face and his self-assured grin

I’ve always been imitated
By the man in the mirror
With his worried sigh and his eyes full of doubt

Who am I?
It seems like such a simple question,
And in all honesty, it is.
The challenge comes in answering it.
Because the answers come in layers
That must be unraveled
Like a ball of yarn.

Who am I?
In kindergarten we drew self portraits,
And we filled out worksheets
That told the world "All About Me."
My hair is blonde, my eyes are blue.
I like the colors red and gold,
And I love to eat chocolate.

Who am I?
As we got older, we developed hobbies.
"We are defined by what we do."
I like psychology, so I'm a nerd.
But challenge me to a riveting game of Clue,
And I'll read your mind and win the game.
So I guess being a nerd has its perks.

Who am I?
Well, I like to think that I'm a musician.
My fingers dance across keys of black and ivory,
And I smile as sweet harmonies
Fill the vacancies of the room.
I believe music is heard with the ears,
But felt with the soul.

Who am I?
I choose to be an optimist.
Because life is too short
To spend it without a smile.
I laugh at simple things
Because I love to laugh,
Simple as that.

Who am I?
I am a fighter.
I have struggles, just like the rest of humanity.
I'm not perfect, but I'm not a quitter either.

Who am I?
I'm a loving sister and a loyal friend.
Till the very end of time,
I will stand by the ones I love.
I believe in a God who believes in me.
He is my anchor, my light, and my friend.
In His strength, I CAN succeed.

Who am I?*
I am the person I choose to become.

Borderline personality disorder Unseen people unseen energies tickling my back Distrust paranoia Longing for love unwilling to accept Dreaming of self harm of boys in all black Who am I to you Trust no one not even your best friend especially not them Avert your eyes don’t look at me I don’t see you I hear things that aren’t there I hear things they whisper my name want me to follow Casual *** casually falling in love Relapse around the corner need to see my blood I smell blood I taste it Close my eyes move to music become a ghost Crying in my bedroom crying in public No one sees I am invisible Think horrible things think about killing A certainty that I will end up alone This sounds like a suicide note Want to be art want to be in the ground burned to ash Who AM I ******* daily In love with love In love with being on my own I can’t belong to anyone I want to belong to someone Can’t be a girlfriend can’t be a best friend Can’t lose me that’s all I have in the end I sound ******* nuts Borderline personality Don’t smile Won’t smile Bitterness bitterness Too afraid to hang myself Punch myself in the face Spit on me Respect me Degrade me Take me away take me in What the **** is wrong with me

Music pulsing

I smell sweat I smell

Beer spilled all over the ground like secrets whispered to the girl in the stall left of mine

I look at him I try to look through him I can’t

Perhaps I have met my match

He is enticing he is beautiful

The contrast of our skin is the make of ink on parchment paper soon to be love letters

Burn them all destroy what could have been good for me

What the **** is good for me I’m good for nothing for no one

I close my eyes I move

Sensuality

Pushing pulling me away me to HIM

He used to scream in my face to breathe hot breath into my heart

Wanted to ruin me he did but

Not irrevocably

I am more now I am less everything is overwhelming underwhelming

This life this human shell is it mine

It all stares back at me in the silver backed mirror

I shake I shiver

He makes me tremble but not like HE did

Anticipation for love he makes me come

Anticipation for /uninvited pain/ he made me whither

I dance I move my hands my hips

Contort my body think of me in bed

He kissed me gently his arm around my shoulders

HOME

Protect me invite me to stay I want to STAY

I can never write poetry when I'm happy
what does that say about my personality?
why do words evade me when I long to share
my feelings of positivity?
I don't want to only be known for my works
on tragedy
I am not always sad and lonely
I smile and laugh
and enjoy what life gives me
and yet I can never convert that joy into poetry
here I am, destined it seems, to always be a tragedy