wherever you go, there you are
in a world of silver legacy
where all you feel are
living emotions of memories
you thought were dead;
hands on the dash,
passenger seat,
their eyes are too friendly.

glass ***** that act
like warm pillows, i'm
ready to fall asleep.

no melatonin,
no split palms or slit wrists,
no fever dreams of vision loss
where i'm left a
broken nose bruised beauty.

i'll be a beauty, or something like that,
but i won't be nothing
like i've been recently.

Can’t you let the sun tint you
And the air wrap round your suffocated
Spirit
Cant you pretend to drift like a dandelion
Dropping into withered grass
Cant you hold the rainbows in your
Daunting irises
And let the rays beam around your
Fragile heart

Dear you
Made up of intricate bonds
That crumble to dust
Ashes in the firewood
Of hopes and kindling flame

Would you take heart
In the glassy persona
Behind mirrors and closed hearts

Would you reach out your fragile hands
And with shaky fingers
Hold the mountain and skies
In your fingertips

I see him every single day. The longing inside of me aches for his acknowledgement. His knowing of my existence.But truly I should hate him. He is a monster after all.  I hide in the shadows of halls and argue with myself. There are people at my school who cannot let others joy pass through their sights. It’s as if their desire is to make everyone else weak so therefore they can maintain their power. But what is power that is taken from negativity? I will never know so therefore I will never speak up. I can’t speak up. No one will ever hear me or see me. No one even notices me unless I fall and cry or break when the teacher calls on me. I’m their daily amusement. My hands are always clenched in agony and my heart is always being ripped into shreds from vain conquests. Despite the tear in my throat my heart beats for the ailing souls of the forgotten. It knows what the others don’t see and hear. Despite my agonizing breathes of air I’m still alive today. How I can still walk with my breaking bones and how I can still see through the foggy lenses society has bestowed upon me is truly beyond me.

I cannot allow myself to speak. Speaking takes energy. I don’t have enough energy to simply express my being and then have my voice heard. My voice is quiet and raspy with edges of cut mirrors and thorny rose bushes. I used to be a lemon tree sweet and sour but golden and sunny as most people expected from me and came to realize and to be simply put that was their recognition. But then the hazy storms of dread pricked my fragile fingers and brought forth blood of ruins. I was ruined. But at first they didn’t care. They wanted to see me for the way they knew me and not the way I had became. How was it fair that she got the recognition from her ex and not I? Not everyone knows of my full story simply because of the sacred secrecy I have been cursed with. He has banished all thoughts of fantasy and left me as a beggar for mercy.

the place
that exists in the darkness
hazy
between days
3 am
lost in songs
that take me far away
please i want to stay
forever

Does
all
That
Anger,

Calm
Your
Veins?

Doesn't
the
Attempt
To
be
Different,

End
All
The
Same?

.

It does...

I feel
Discombobulated
Angry
Livid
With myself
Because I find myself
Without anything else

rides the waves of teenage entanglements
and out of feebleness surrenders themselves to choke
inches from shore

rages and riots
in the home
of their birther

smokes and sniffs and inhales
assimilation
and in their reflection
pales



i do.