I was never made with wings,
so I hadn't known a life other than
the one made of dirt.
I wanted a companion,
but I fell in love with a bird,
whom would never be happy
with the ground.

I don't even really know what I'm writing or what I'm saying right now. All I know is I have a million things and a million voices in my head and they're going to be the end of me. Or maybe it'll be society that'll be the end of me. Or maybe it's the boy that works the drive through. Maybe he's the one that's really driving me crazy. My head is spinning around a million miles an hour and I don't know how to stop it.
You're ugly
You're fat
Your skins not prefect
You too white
Your hair is frizzy
Your outfit doesn't match
He's never going to like you
No one will ever love you
You're worthless
You're not good enough
You're a ****
Don't eat
**** yourself
The blades are still under the mattress
SOMEONE MAKE THE VOICES STOP
Please...
*Im begging you

There's never been a stronger urge to just **** myself.

Am I anything at all
if I'm nothing to you?

She fakes it.
I am the one who hates it.

I try to hide it. Try to avoid it.
But she fails me.
Every time I try to reconcile, she leaves me be.

I portray us as a team,
But she breaks the bond,
Prefers to be individual,
I look up to her with Scorn.

She makes new friends.
She forgets me.

She is the one making dents,
In the end,I am the Culprit.
I will always be one. . .

I try to love her.
But she doesn't want to.
In the end,I have nothing to offer.
And I don't know what to do.

I expect. I expect every day.
That one day,
She will come running to me and say-
Hey! I missed you and I am sorry for my Stupid,Childish Tactics.

But will that day ever come?
When odds will be with me?

My heart bleeds,
I sink in Jealousy.
She doesn't look back to me.
She leaves me be.

When everything finishes.
When its all over.
When everyone is gone.
When nothing is left to hear except the silence.
When nothing is left to be seen except the beauty of emptiness.
When nothing is left to taste expect for life.
When nothing is left to feel except for the loneliness.
When nothing is left to be fed expect your soul.
When everything is left except for right.
I will be there.

i  smile at the thought of your eyes
and the sound of your smile
and the warmth of your voice
yes, at that i smile

And maybe I care to much.
But honestly even though your writing wrench my heart,
I'd rather read your writings because then at least I know you're okay.