Dribbling down creating waves.
Cut through the water knife like shapes.
A tear drop is all it takes.
Our love never at stake to leave like this would be a mistake.
The hardship of a word our lips won't partake.
Downward waves upon a tear filled lake.

I have for you a brand new word:
Of “Nightmare” we all have heard,
But now I give you
“Daymare”.

Yes, a day of Daymares –
Those little nagging Anxieties
That grow to deep Depression.
Can I pay my bills?
Will I pass my exams?
What will people think (of me)?

We all have had those Daymare days
When all goes wrong
And nothing will go right.

Bad days
Like when my parents died,
Nervous breakdowns,
Running over a cat
And a squirrel.
Fillings falling out.
Lunch is burnt.
We’re flooded!
And many more.

Times of sadness, anger and frustration.
Times to cry.
Times when it’d be better
To Die.

So, here I give you “Daymare”:
A word I hope
You seldom have to use.

Paul Butters

All my life
I was scared of drowning.
But now,
I'm drowning in my
own fears.

S.F

I remember the innocence of my childhood
happiness.

It was before bracelets were used
for more than just fashion…
before they were used to hide jagged cuts

The days when I only cried for my
scraped skin.

Now I cry for heartbreak and the loss
of more than just happiness.

The days where pills were only taken
to make “the hurt go away”.

Now they’re taken to make me go away.

The days where Root Beer was the only
“alcohol” I drank.

Now I drink shots of hopelessness
in small glasses of heartbreak

The days where the only kisses I asked for
were before I drifted off to sleep.

Now I beg for kisses in midnight hours
where the only love I receive is the kind
where the sheets are terrorized.

The days where candied cigarettes were my
way of being an adult.

Now cigarettes are the way of keeping
me sane.

“Look, mommy, look. I’ve grew
an inch!”

Now I’m growing without you.

Gone are the days where I felt your kisses
planted upon wet cheeks,
The days where I beg for your love, mommy.

I beg for love in the form of moaning,
bed springs creaking;
where sweat caked into my pores.

The days where my life meant something to
someone.

If I died now, who would cry for me?

The days where happiness grew on trees,
and you showed me how to grasp them with
dirt-covered palms.

Look, mommy. I’ve grew an inch.

An inch closer to the bullet
awaiting in it’s home.

-DDF

I feel like ****.
Because .
I miss you like hell.