To the men who tell me I’m prettier when I smile,
the ones who feel uneasy if I frown for a while.

To the men who make me question myself,
the ones who make me put my worth on the shelf.

To the men who finish, then stare at the ceiling,
too scared to ask me how I am feeling.

To the men who make me burn out like a candle,
who tells me that my love is too much to handle.

To the men who take and never return,
this is my last hope that you’ll ever learn.

You seem to think my heart is invincible,
either that or that my body is somewhat dispensable.  

You turn off your feelings, afraid to seem weak,
run away when you see the affection I seek.

I played along, thinking “sure this is normal”,
but I’ve been enlightened and my complaint it is formal.

So listen up men, because I have a voice,
what used to be an orifice, is now making noise.

You made me a fool, left me with no clue,
but I’ve come to see the only fool here is you.

You’re missing out, and I finally see,
God told me “bless up”, then pulled you from me.

Actions over words, I know, what a shocker,
I’ve dug out my self-respect from the back of my locker.

So here it goes, a few words of the wise;
the “girl you were *******” now has a surprise.

Listen up “men”, because you have a choice,
until the right one is made, the correct term is “boys”.

Whisper you’re anxious to the moon
When the night has come
In her purple dress.
And fade back into peaches
Of the dawn that starts
Where the pain never ended.

loitering between
         earth
                       and air,

A cord of
                in-between
moments.

As we regret or
                breath relief,
of life's final moments..

Why do you go in the water at night doesn't it scare you
Why yes it does
But that's why I love it
It's the one time I'm afraid for a reason other people are too
And along with the fear I feel relief
Relief from wanting to **** myself
Because while I'm in this dark black water with no moonlight
If I were to die it wouldn't be my fault
It wouldn't be because I slit my wrists it wouldn't be my fault
It would be because I drowned on accident
Or a shark came and ate me
Or I died of pneumonia
They wouldn't write in my obituary that I struggled and eventually committed suicide
They would write what an amazing kid I was and that God took their little angel away too soon
Just for a while my death isn't on my shoulders
So yes I am afraid but I'm also liberated

In a
moment
of quiet,
through the
busyness buzz,
a soothing thought
                    s
               e
          s
     i
r
to my consciousness,
and
consoles my heart:

*"I'm going to be okay."