and the first question that came to my mind
was how on earth did I even survive?
Because I know why I wrote what I wrote
and I know how much I choked
on the agony of words that poured out of me.
I know what I have been through
and these poems record it.
They know too.
And to a degree,
everyone who reads them knows as well.
But at the same time
no one else knows for certain
what exactly was my Hell.
How did I survive?
Why did I choose to keep on going?
Why did I choose to stop writing at one point?
Was I really that depressed?
I guess I was.

*I guess I was.

I am just a little blip on the radar of life
not entirely certain why i'm there
but yet I made enough of an impact
for the radar to pick me up.

But then i'm gone.

Gone as quickly as I came,
all promises broken,
all ties severed,
all hope destroyed,
as I am no more.

I am nothing more than the lines I used to draw on my wrist.
I am nothing more than the words that bleed onto my page.
Not to be shared with anyone
except my own tortured self.

But yet I come back,
I always come back
with desperate hope that
things will be different.
They have to be.

But i'm always a mess
a girl in her best dress
that hates with a passion
the amount of times I change.
Down down down I go,
falling endlessly.

I will leave
and i'll be back.
Spinning in this endless dance
of confused passions,
and all these little lights on the radar
mark my disappearance.

Half smiles leaving trails
Of simple wonder and childlike fantasies
Thought of in carefree days
Strained eyes, suppressed sighs
I see the concealed words in your faraway stares
Your mother and father
Handed you the life that was not your own
Making you a disbeliever of the fate you could have created

Your happiness took flight like a lonely bird
Leaving you with an empty cage to live in
Everything that you are, everything that you ever wanted to be
Are now winged hopes, flying in the horizons of lost dreams

The spark in your eyes tell a different story
From the praises that strangers throw upon you
They know you by face
But they never asked whether you are your dreams
It hurts me to look at my victories
The ones you have given at the palm of my small hands
With your selfless and strong love at the sacrifice of yourself
You are not everyone's hero, but you are mine

Your happiness took flight like a lonely bird
Leaving you with an empty cage to live in
Everything that you are, everything that you ever wanted to be
Are now winged hopes, flying in the horizons of lost dreams

Leave all your hurts to me
Pass on all your wishes to
The little girl who listened to all
The unheard dreams
The unfulfilled promises
Leave them be, let me be
The keeper of every winged hope in your wingless heart

Tip toe carefully down the never ending path
that twists and winds into the woods
littered with leaves of different hues
that fell from dead trees so high above.
But their golden figures make no sounds,
as your toes ghost over the tops of them
dancing down the path.

Searching for the end of the path,
getting lost in the deep dark woods,
and wondering why wandering is such a pleasant thing to do
yet so crippling as well.
The toes stop moving as loud sobs were heard,
they came from behind,
at the start of the path.

Don't go back lonely dancer
whose toes twitch towards the sound.
It was a choice to dance with death,
one that you couldn't turn down
since no one else would ever dance with you.
Don't float back over those golden leaves
they will turn brown.

But yet those toes turned away from the end
and back to the sounds where it all began,
and what the dancer saw they almost couldn't comprehend,
how could one person care so much for a failed friend?
One who had no grace in life,
who couldn't handle it,
who had to leave it all behind.

You stood on your toes to see around the bend, you leaned
just enough to see toes, connected to feet, connected to legs, connected to...
connected to... with a person kneeling, staring at the hanging form.
Run dancer run,
look at what you have done.
You can't go back, the past hurts you like it always does
all you can do is dance with death, alone again.

Calm, poised, point your toes, you failure!
The deadly mantra you had forgotten echoed in your head again
as your feet hit the ground,
tripping on sticks and brown leaves
and you fall down,
your body in agony,
dancing no more.