Conversation overloaded
psychopathic episode
Choke me till I learn to die
Yet to die is to live a lie
Swords and knives cut me deep
But my stature I still keep
Words so mighty are all that hurt
Rub them in my face like dirt
Cut me till my tears run dry
Sing me a broken lullaby
Demons rise angels fall
I try so hard to forget it all
Broken dreams rise from the dead
Broken promises stuck in my head
I will not cry I will not brake
My broken heart you shall not take
Beat me till I learn to listen
Still in my eyes you glow and glisten
You're not better then any one
Just because you hold a gun
Choke me cut me beat me down
Yet shoot me and I'll always be around
Forever written on your heart
Bitter memories taste so ****
I said that you would regret
Now you will never forget
My name is written on your skin
Blood on your hands as proof of sin

Ive met many cool people on here and they've all been accepting but the two that have really stood out and been there for me is my friend storm and my friend olivia. Although storm and I don't talk much he/she is an awesome friend and I don't know where id be without him. As for Olivia although we don't talk anymore she was always there cheering me on and helping me out with my poetry. I miss her a lot and I wish we could still be friends but due to circumstances she couldn't and that's okay because for the time being I have learned whay having true friendships really mean. As well as being fully accepted. Everyone has never made me feel bad about my writing or who I am. So thank you all especially my two friends

Your fingers pull at shower-soft hair
Getting longer but not too long
Your eyes are dry but so is your tongue
Because you can’t find it in you to cry

Your chest is tight but it’s not the shirt you wear
It’s your ribs closing in on your lungs.
Your insides are crushed beneath the weight of their words
Pronouns buried like landmines beneath your skin
There’s a sickness inside you
Gnawing on your bones
Black tar sticky in your stomach
A violence pressing against your organs

You’ll feel better when you’ve changed your body
When your voice is deep and there’s hair on your jaw
You can take your shirt off at the beach
And flirt with girls at the coffee shop

Until then there’s no one who can understand
No one to get why you stand before the mirror
Running your hands over your flattened chest
Or practice walking like there’s something between your legs

No one asks why you’re not happy with cancer
Because no one is happy with cancer
But no one understands that your dysphoria
Is a sickness
And its terminal