People say hatred is wrong

That it means you're as bad as the very one you hate

But I beg to differ

Why can't I hate her for torturing me as a child

And trying her very best to make me sad

Why can't I hate him for doing the very same

For doing anything he can to made me feel pain

Just because he can't hurt himself enough

I've grown to hate myself

And as bad as that is

I just can't stop

I've grown up with such a toxic set of siblings

I might as well be the first to go

That's what they've always wanted

When they tried to strangle me

I still remember how it felt

When they wrapped their hands around my neck

It hurt

How do I stop these images,
replaying in my head,
How do I stop the voices,
Of those who are dead.

When I lay my head down to sleep,
I pray that the dead and I never meet,
But when I close my eyes,
I see those screaming skies.

All the tears that shed,
All the bodies that bleed,
Screaming in my head,
Dreaming of the dead

They say
actions speak louder than words
and if that’s true
I was screaming

Empty words
empty smiles
Haunted the last few years
of school
Somedays it was obvious
no talking
no smiles
no anything
but my “friends” didn’t notice
didn’t care
and the ones that would’ve cared
I didn’t go to

Fake gestures
fake friends
you said you cared about me
but you didn’t
you just wanted the math homework
inviting me over
was just for certainty

Anxious actions
anxious me
trying desperately
to keep these people my friends
but I couldn’t keep fighting
I was already screaming
help me
I’m hopeless, helpless, and scared
and they couldn’t hear me
so fighting and pleading
wasn’t worth it anyway

Leaving them
leaving fear
or so I thought
but years of fake friends
and unheard actions
unheard screaming
made me think
that my other friends
wouldn’t hear me too

Loving friends
Loving me
they heard me
they helped me help myself
and I don’t need to scream
and fight
and plead
anymore
because they hear me
before I even start
screaming

I only want to scream
till my throat, so raw it bleeds
Anger mopes buried deep
it molds to me, as I breath
Choking slowly, I thirst to scream
let out the need
and then repeat
and then repeat
let out the need
I only thirst to scream
choking slowly, it molds to me
as I breath
Anger mopes buried deep
till my throat, so raw it bleeds

I SCREAM!

Yelling from my peers
I shouldn't be here
But it wasn't my choice
Its that small little voice,
Yelling
Screaming
Perfection is what I strive for
Pain stabbing to the core
But really I just can't handle this
It's reality I miss
To close to the edge
Nightmares of jumping off the ledge
I'm tired of eveyone's fake kindness
I'm a mess.

Dear [insert name here],
This is For:
A girl made out of glass,
       The world sees only her mask.
A shattered scarlet smile,
        It might be the blood
        of those who broke her heart
The weeping willow tree,
        It weeps for what it sees
The boy that ‘cannot love.’
        He only does what he is told
This broken-hearted ‘thing,’
        They call me ‘freak’
A ‘left-behind-but-safe,’
        There is no real safe place
A queen who can’t want ‘life’
        Or love, or anything at all
A silent mourning scream,
        No one hears her call
The banished lovers lost,
        Because there are so many

And for
The undead ones who miss Hell.
Because they know
Hell,
Is better than this place
Where everything is pretty
And everything is 'normal'
Or it is worth
less
Than nothing at all.
Sincerely,
Someone With Things to Say

If I told anyone I was *****, they wouldn’t believe me
I live in a world that preaches against hypothetical violence but when that **** comes into your life, everyone pushes it away.
I remember, no I don’t remember, I can barely remember his name.
I think it started with a “C”.
I think he was from Minnesota.
I think we were on a sixteen hour flight.
I think he smiled at me.
I think I smiled back, because why the **** wouldn’t I.
I think he took that as a green light.
I think I shut my eyes to try and sleep.
I think he took that as a green light.
I am fifteen.
I think too little of his advances and trust society enough for me to rest.
I know that was a mistake.
I know I woke up to a blanket around me that wasn’t there before.
I know I woke up to his palm pressed in my pants.
I know I woke up screaming.
I know I couldn’t open my mouth.
I know I was screaming.
I know my mother was on that same plane three rows back.
I was fifteen.

I told my friends and they never believed me.
I haven’t told a soul since.
Why did he walk away from that unscratched while I have been carrying it around like a dead animal for three years?
Why do men think they can own what they can see?
Let me tell you what I can see:
Five people who asked me why I didn’t fight back.
Four people that were sitting around me and claimed to see him putting the cover on me, yet did nothing.
Three of his friends I saw later on the trip who praised him for what he accomplished upon seeing what I looked like.
Two eyes in the mirror that cry almost everyday.
And one crack in that same mirror that will never go away.