All you have is a kiss you have yet to give
Your memories are black and cold as ice
There was a time of bliss and love within
Now you can only see the void unfulfilled
Let your lips curse at the storms
They came when he left without a goodbye
Somehow your silence holds the answers
Learn how to breathe fire into your lungs
One day you will learn old songs the new way

Insecurities building up
Only 16
under pressure
uncollected and pessimistic
and halls of empty bodies
I resign from this life
please forgive me
goodbye.

I tried to write a happy poem.
I tried to throw myself into a pit of nostalgia to try and remember what happiness feels like.

All my poems are so sad, I don't know why I'm so sad.
My therapist tells me I have self esteem issues that effect everything else in my life.
My insecurities have ways been there, I had just never been able to put a name to the face until I brought a razor to my skin for the first time and the pain didn't feel wrong.
I didn't know what I was doing was wrong, I had no idea that it was wrong to be a  12 years old with arms covered in scars I call my battle wounds,
because no one wants to talk about the elephant in the room when it sounds like I've been to war and I'm only 17.
They won't poke and **** me with questions when it sounds like I was captured by the enemy and skinned for my beliefs.
I won't be questioned why I am not happy.
Why at 12 years old I was unhappy and why I am 17 years old now and I am still not happy.

I tried to write a happy poem.
I tried to write a happy poem by thinking 6 years back to before I knew I put the name to the face, before my insecurities were put on show for the world to see,
before I knew it was wrong to hate myself for what I wasn't and for who I wanted to be.
Until it finally hit me.
I've never been happy.
My hair was never as long as the ******* my left,
my body was never as skinny as the ******* my right.
My smile was never the shiniest nor were my eyes the brightest.
I tried to write a happy poem, but I can't write about a foreign entity, I can't write about something I have never had.
The concept of happiness is so alien that no wonder that when people are overcome with the feeing they feel out of this world.

Happiness is a luxury that I have never been given the privilege of.
Happiness is a luxury that I have never I will never been given the privilege of of.

I tried to write a happy poem,
I feel more empty inside than I've ever felt before.

My past was real lonely and I felt like a nobody everybody ignores me and treats me like I'm nothing I used to do somthinfng I so deeply regret to myself it was a very deep threat if anyone found out they would laugh and won't care that's why I'm so scared that only two friends actually know my deep despair  I'm so scared of my past it makes me cry every night in sadness I'm scared I'll be the same and nobody will care my past was so lonely and sad and my future will be too cause as the voice in my head keeps on saying nobody cares about you and is all they would do is just laugh at your past and maybe your future ...

The kiss you lay upon my skin
Healed every bruise present from his sins
the scars on my body disappear with your whisper
Your voice left me wondering
Why would he hit her
I regretted letting tears fall as one hit your hand
Right as i was falling
You helped me land
I feel your arms snake around my body
Protecting me from the nightmares
At night when they haunt me
And maybe later i will get over it
But when im alone
I never forget the sound
Of his hit

Skies were always fascinating
Them with their blue hues
Brightness in even the darkest navy
Accented with silver twinkle
Or giants made of pillow softness
The whitest mattresses in the sky
But it always daunts me how skies are grey
With their plush blues
Gone to waste
The doom of smoke comes to play
But then comes the tears of those enchanted
With droughts and disparity
But grey skies don't always cry
Not the ones that smoke you dry
They force the water out of smiles
Those who couldn't revoke
No one asks to be blown up by the mist of our greed
And for a second there is fire but the rest is just need
Sadness wanders beautiful cities
Whilst their people are broke
Burning the happiness of children on the streets
Or whatever is left of them
So When I look up
At night or day
And see the blue is here today
and with my fear I look up high,
My god, thank you for a clear blue sky

I was told that heartbreak is beautiful,
that I can use it to create something,
use my skills to create words of beauty
from the beauty of my pain. Yet I can't.
Pain before was my muse, but then you
replaced it and now you're gone. I have
no words because my words left me, you
took them. I wrote my love into an
ancient ballad of confessions, only for
you, and it turned out to be a goodbye.