3 AM, I roll onto the floor;

No use trying to sleep anymore.

Anxiety shakes me to the core;

I walk to the bathroom, I lock the door.



The raven pecks at the window, so I let it in;

It tells me there's no escape from my sin.

It says that I've failed, and I'll fail again,

It says it never lasts when I try to repent...



I humor the raven, I listen to its lore;

I begin to think it's right, as my head grows sore.        

Will I ever different from who I was before?

Quoth the raven: "Nevermore".



Once upon a midnight dreary,

A midnight I have dreaded dearly,

I crawl to the sink, and I can't help fearing

The raven's words I hated hearing.



"I'm sorry!" I cry, "I want to do better!"

But how many times have I written those letters?

How can I ever pay? I'm the hopeless debtor;

And I can't always hide in the fabric of my sweater.



The raven tells me I'm a figurative *****;

I'm huddled in the cabinet, writing metaphors.

Will I ever have a mind free of blood and gore?

Quoth the raven: "Nevermore".



Why won't you leave me alone, you Godforsaken bird!?

To hell with you, and your pessimistic words!

I'm sick of being beaten, broken down, and disturbed;

You might be right, but you might be absurd.



I will try to change once more, as the night gives up its reign;

For a short while, I will return to being sane.

But the night will come again, as the sun can not remain,

And with it comes the raven, waiting at my window pane.



Why me!? Why me!? What does it bother me for?

I tried to do what's right! I can't take this anymore!

Will it ever stop peck, peck, pecking at my door!?

*Quoth the raven: "Nevermore".

lackluster, with a sad smile
i wade into the deep ocean of self hatred
with my head anchored to my spine
in only the most casual of ways
lips curved into a hint of what could've been
a smile

as the water reaches my throat
i swear i could hear the click of her patent stilletos
against the sides of my ribs
as i try and recall
the way your calloused hands
brushed against my shoulder
released all of the world's winds
into the small of my back

i can't help but laugh
at the way mirrors seem to destroy me from the inside out
my brown eyes seem to condescend
at what i fail become
as i watch you fall in love
with all that she is
and all that i can never be

i drown.

i watch her lips move as she speaks
the symmetry of her face
stained glass eyes with cheeks of rose
a complexion as flawless as a fresh spring day
my heart is broken with every word she speaks.
for i feel my imperfections resounding more clearly in her beautiful frame
than i ever could in a mirror.
legs longer than any lie of self-love that i could ever spin
her waist narrow, molded into galaxies that boys will dream of grasping.


if she is spring, than i am the middle of february.
my skin is clear the way that the sky is green
my figure an ominous cloud of a long winter
lackluster, abrasive
daring those who look upon it to find themselves immediately disinterested

for i hold no fear for the oblivion of darkness
would march into the depths of the sea without glancing back
pretty girls are my sole fear
for i know that by the end of the day
you will look to her and, much like myself, not find a single flaw in her effortless effervescence,
and i will go by without so much as a passing glance.

Please hold me,
Tell me everything
Is going to
Be okay,
As I sob
Into your chest.
Hold me tight,
But not too tight,
For I am fragile
And pieces of me
Are already missing...
I don't think I can
Afford to lose anymore.
Is that too much to ask?
I'm sorry.

From the most caring of my relatives.

Grandma.
Uncle.
Aunt.
Great Aunt.

“I need to focus on school.”
“I want to work to get money.”
“I have friends to hang out with.”

None of them the real answer.

How can I have a boyfriend,
a person to love me,
when I hate myself?

To my future lover,
you will see the marks of hatred.
To my future children,
I will tell the truths of depression.
To my future friends,
you will find me on my failing days.
To my future family,
I will hide my mental illness.
To the future me,
I don’t know what you will be.

What do you do when you hate yourself?
Tell yourself that you’re amazing?
Make yourself look pretty?
Create a better you?

What do you do when every fiber of your body wants to die?
Tell yourself that life’s worth living?
Make your mind see the non-logic in dying?
Create a better body?

What do you do when your soul refuses to stay alive?
Tell yourself that the soul isn’t real?
Make your soul into something better?
Create a better soul?

**What do you do when everything in you wants to die?