It's late, and I'm sad. I've been crying, I've been thinking.
If I just disappeared, who would miss me? Who would notice? Who would try to find me?
I can't determine my death, but fate can.
Unless I tamper with my destiny, and make it what I want it to be.
I could easily **** myself, without pain, or with it.
I want to fall asleep, dream of a perfect world, and never wake up.
I could easily find a knife, or a razor, I could bleed out.
I could overdose on painkillers, because I have them right at my fingertips.
I could drown, or hang myself, or shoot myself.
I could jump off a bridge, or a building.
I could do all of this, and I do consider it, but I could never fulfill it.
The thought of death calms me, my soul wouldn't inhabit the body I have now.
I'd be free, free from reality, and worries.
I wouldn't carry this life on, it would just end.
Who would it effect? Who would finally acknowledge who I am?
People who once hated me, or talked **** about me, would all of a sudden care.
They would say, "what a shame, she was so beautiful."
People lie, they're careless, thinking words don't hurt.
They have no idea what I go through, what I think about, what I want to do.
I couldn't leave my mom, she's holding me back.
I wouldn't live for anyone else.
If I died, I would be remembered, but remembered as a girl who was too weak and broken to live,
too sad to move forward.
People would move on, and I'd be pushed to the back of their minds.
If I could simply die without anyone knowing, I wouldn't be here now.

I’m waiting
waiting
through my day
for a poetic idea
to come my way
to waft on by
and
hopefully
catch my eye

I’m waiting
daydreaming
dilly-dallying
doodling
my time away
waiting for my
brain to go astray
if a poem
happens my way
it’s never a wasted day

Creepy crawls down the spine
A presence lurks behind
Chill bumps raise as cool night air flows inward
Melodramatic sigh releases the pyro
Pull down and toss the curtains into a limp pile
Set fire to burn the ***** down in vain

I have these dreams that haunt me when I wake
and I'm not sure
if I believe in god but
I don't think I'm strong enough
to believe in nothing
  and survive it

I guess I should be
grateful that the pollen
doesn't make my throat itch
   like it does Naomi's
and it doesn't make my eyes itch
   like it does Naomi's
        but it does make me itch
to get out of this godforsaken place
            once-and-for-all

In my dreams I walk through
fields with needles where the grass
should be but when I wake the
crickets, birds, gossipy girls
whisper when I pass
and its so hard to stop listening
  (the streets swell yellow with the ***** of spring)