When my heart is a mirror,
I will not look at it anymore,
Left it in mediocre,
Feeling indifferent and could not care less,
Living in pure guilt,
Scarcely breathing,
Mostly suffocating lunacy,
Not once that I look at it,
Not even a glimpse,
I am ashamed of myself,
Left my beliefs in the black hole,
Lower my standards just to meet yours,
Go down to the levels of foolishness,
I drowned myself,
My right hand is tightly holding the life line,
My left hand will never let you go,
In between them,
Me, I’m drowning in my own self pity,
Pride or feelings,
Should I care less and leave you,
Should I fight for you and sacrifice comfort,
You make my heart turn mirrors,
And I hate my own reflection.

I'm sick of these friendships that only bring pain
Saying you do everything
These fights that only bring blame
But where were you friend
When I needed you most
When I thought it was the end
The person I leaned on
Appeared to be gone
So this is it
Final goodbye
I deleted your contact
I'll never say hi

I would pretend not to care, because it kept you right here.
But now i know, that action is sad. Wearing a mask of ignorance, that blinds all i see. Deafen myself to the world around me. A shattered up heart, ripping apart, with every trail of light that passes the mark. Rip off the mask and now i can see, just how toxic the world, and you, are to me.

Kiss me,
love me,
Don't leave me.

Hold me tight,
Be my light,
Cuz you're so bright!

Winter is here.
It's getting colder.
I hope it snows.
I want it to snow.
We have a fire going and it's keeping me warm,
But, I wish it was you keeping me warm.

I hate the mask I wear
Behind my paper lines,
I hate the mask I wear
And all my un-rhymed rhymes.
I hate the fact that I'm some ghost
Who bleeds black ink onto my white host!
I hate the fact that I harbor my words
To the ships out at sea that all go unheard!
I hate the fact that I am a mess
And all I have left are these words of distress!

I hate that I try to make my self depressed
In order to write a poem that will truly impress!
I hate that I have to sit here everyday
Trying to write my problems away
Only to find
That behind the smeared lines
That I still am battling with my old demons!
That I still am battling with doubt!
Oh I hardly take time to care about the seasons
I just care about the problems I have going on now.

-And even at my best I'm just someone who can't write
And all my poems are a mask for my bloodiest fights
But tonight
I hope someone turns on the lights
And finds my dead corpse rotting off to the side,
I hope that for once it will all be fine
And my heart will stop beating before I start losing my mind-

Everyone sees me
But no one knows me
My friends know what i tell
But never care to see what i dont

I go through life smiling
Faking every emotion
Pretending im normal
But when the world falls still
And i have no laughs to mimic

I remeber whats real
What my life is
And no matter how hard i try
I cant fake a smile for myself

My reflection stares at me
That same blank expression it always has
I want to slam my fist into it
Make it go away
Wanting it to do what i cant

I fake me for them
Why cant it fake for me
Show me what i want to be
Not what i am

Things aren't even bad. I really shouldn't even be freaking out. The papers are sorted and the kids are alright, but I know its incoming and I don't know what to do.

You see, I hate my birthday.

It gives my family another opportunity to disappoint and show that they don't understand me for one more consecutive year. I'd rather they send a simple note that they love me instead of things I'd never need nor want.

And the friends. Even my best of friends, or at least those who I thought were, can utterly wreck my birthday. Last year, my roommate moved out and barely anyone spent time with me. Every birthday party when I was young i spent at least some part of it crying. And when I stopped celebrating them, my friends would get me passive aggressive presents like getting me journals when they felt I needed to deal with myself more and talk to them less.

I hate birthdays.

I prefer the most meaningful five dollar trinket or hand-made thing over the three-hundred dollar jewelry that i will never wear in my life. I don't care if people don't go overboard for my birthday. Honestly I prefer they don't.

I just prefer they care and it really hurts when its pretty obvious by their present they more picked it to convenience them, to make them feel better.

No, Grandpa, sending me hundreds of dollars of makeup will not make me forget all the years you ignored me for my brother and the other cousins. It still doesn't. It doesn't make up for you tearing me down each time I have an idea that does not align with your ideals. When you are so pained by the thought of me having my own thoughts that don't coincide with yours you insist I am young and dumb and know nothing. Funny you act like you know everything when you don't even bother to know me.

And my high school best friends. You complained about walking on eggshells around me, and stressing about my feelings, while I felt you barely were treating me like a human being. So the perfect remedy was to hand me several cheap journals so that I can write things out. Of course I'm left-handed and writing things out on paper hurts after about five minutes, but awesome, thanks, I totally feel the love.

Why in the world should I care about my day when every time I try to, everyone else knocks it down?

Of course I stopped trying to make it special when it always went wrong. Of course I get uncomfortable about it now. Of course I feel more dread than excitement on the one day things are supposed to be nice for me. Of course I'm so scared about it incoming, because I don't want to spend another birthday with no memories, or ones bad enough to make me dread the next one even more.

At this point I don't even know if I care about my birthday. I wish it would disappear. I want to love it and feel special and feel loved but every one I can remember didn't manage to make anything better. I feel worse with everyone that comes.

Maybe this is why I love Christmas, because my parents and grandma get me such nice things and my family gets so cozy and cheery around Christmas, that even the painful reminders don't get to me as much, and even if they do I get to see my family's smiling faces when they open presents from me, and it makes me feel a little better about the whole thing.

I should love my birthday, but I don't. And I'm sad that after 20 years I'm so worn down that even the thought of it incoming makes me want to forget it.