sometimes an acrid heat
rises in my vocal cords
it tells me to do things
i don't want to do
but i do want it
i just wish i didn't.

it steals my voice
it masquerades as honor
it whispers justifications
it reveals itself to me
in a way i can't refuse

it tells me
it reminds me
how sweetly it stings
when i drag my fingers
against my skin
how could i say no?
i am weak

it wants me to hurt
i want to hurt
it wants me to hurt
i want to hurt
i(t) want(s me) to hurt
because it never was anything
but my own desires
i just didn't want them
to be mine

Every time I attempt to sit down with my mom and talk about my mental state
She somehow warps the story into the idea that I am simply stressed out because I am not trying hard enough in school
And I sit there and take her words
Shoving them down my throat in an attempt to make them fact
But they do not fit the gaping hole in my chest
Her words are mismatched puzzle pieces trying to portray two different pictures
But she’s not wrong
School is one of the causes of my anxiety but not in the way she thinks it is
I walk into school every day
a new lollipop flavor in my mouth
Hands shoved into pants pockets
A false swagger used as a shield
So they don’t know that I cried myself to sleep last night
I have created the perfect girl
She walks into the room
Smile bold and blazing like the summer sun
A new joke slips past her lips
Causing her classmates to hunch over in stitches
And in those seconds she wipes the remaining tears from when she cried because she looked in the mirror for too long
The girl I come to school as
Has a heart of gold
And her arms wide open to embrace everyone she sees
She holds them close to her chest so they don’t see her cry
She walks into a room
Bold and brash and brazen
Shouting
Look at me I am a star
Look at me I am shining
Why don’t you see me shining?
Notice me
Notice my happiness
Notice my confidence
Notice my high self-worth
I shout and I shout and I shout
All so they won’t notice the cracks and creases on my exterior
This girl that I am from the moment she steps into the building
Until the moment she touches down on her bed
Walks like the world is her runway
Flashes her painted on smile like it's her ticket to happiness
Her skin is stitched together by quirky comments
Corny jokes
And faux vibrato that reverberates in her chest so she can shout my words out to the room as if she is the Queen of the world
The fictional heroine I composed
A character I have created because no one wants to be friends with the girl who dreams of killing herself
No one wants to be friends with the girl who shoves her fist in her mouth at 2:00 in the morning
Hoping to choke down her sobs so she would not bother anyone
No one wants to friends with the other part of me
The one who puts the lollipop in her mouth to block the screams from ripping out her throat
To cease the quivering of her voice
The one who twirls the stick in her fingers so you won’t notice the violent shaking of her hands as she looks for something to hold onto
Something to control
Something to rip
Something to shred
To hopefully not tear out her hairs and huddle into a ball in the corner of the classroom
So she keeps ******* on that stick of comfort
To steady her nerves
To not cry out
Help Me
For this is not their problem
Not their baggage to drag behind them
Her shoulders have become pedestals for her pain
Because it is hers alone to carry
They do not need to see it
I have come to the conclusion that I am a pathological liar
a body snatcher who transforms into the person she dreams of being every ******* day
and you may call this identity theft because she’s not truly me
The little girl that I truly am deep down inside is still afraid of the dark
Still scared of heights
Still petrified of clowns
But she’s even more horrified by the thoughts that run around in her own mind
She’d rather face a thousand killer clowns on the top of Mount Everest in the middle of the night
Than sit alone with her thoughts in her hands
Weeping out the story of a girl who’d rather die than keep breathing half of the time
Tears clog my eyes and blur my vision
I can feel the oxygen slipping out of my lungs
I can feel the heat pool in my chest
I can feel them start to shrivel
Hyperventilation occurs
As I begin to heave my chest outwards hoping to fill this void
I can’t breath
I can’t breath
I can’t breath
I can’t-
I grab a lollipop out of my bag
Fingers quivering like fall leaves
I Rip off the wrapper and throw it into the trash
Just as if it was the little girl
I place its perfect pink roundness between my lips and hold it there
I inhale
I exhale
And I feel the smirk plaster itself onto my face
I sense my eyes flicking to a lighter color
I sit back down at my desk
Twiddle my thumbs
Insert a sly comment into the conversation
And they laugh
They laugh so loud that they don’t hear the cracking of my heart
The little girl is sleeping now
And I foolishly hope
She won’t wake up
Ever
Again

i've walked around
with an open wound in my chest
for years.

i've been ever so careful
to wipe up the puddles
of blood i
leave in my wake.
i have to.

this wound,
this open wound,
has been festering
for years.

it was wrought first
by a wooden stake,
dripping with grass-green poison,
when i was still too young
to know that
this open wound
shouldn't have been there
at all.
i don't quite remember
the first time i looked
down at my own chest
and saw my own heart,
beating and dripping blood
peeking through an open wound.

it hurt.
it hurt IT HURT it hurt.
it hurt so, so badly.

as the years passed,
and this wound
was inflicted
again and
again and
again and
again and
again and
again and
again and
again and
again and
again.
it was torn open day after day
rotted and infected
it exposed my ribs
it exposed my lungs
it exposed my heart
it exposed my soul.

but. now.
today's the first day
that instead of letting it be torn deeper
i put on a band-aid.

this open wound,
i've never felt it heal.
and now that i am starting to,
it seems more painful
and sore
than ever.