How could words that felt like
lava to my inner skin
leukimia to my bones,
Septal Defects to my heart ,
have turned into blows,
after sickening blows?

How is it that I could only
mentally scream for you to shut up
stop this mental and physical abuse
but not actually saying it.

I guess I know why,
I guess I always knew why
I knew it but did you also know why
Tell me you also  know why

Well maybe that's why
I listen to all this sad songs
don't trust this thing between my chest
learned to trust this thoughts in my head.

Your words taught me
bruise me,broke me then modelled me
only to throw me,crush me then model me
Ironically you made me elite and haughty me
You would like me but I don't like me

I blame myself though
Your words were my religion
bitter cruel they made this though
I wish I wasn't talking to a corpse though

Your words were my religion
your blows were my conviction
blood,tears and pain
though I wish they never were my religion

i asked
what you would wish for
if a genie
granted you three wishes

and none of your wishes
had anything to do
with me

break up with him/her
you deserve better
move out
Get a job
smile
everything will be okay
a bad day isn't a bad life
college isn't forever
you can't make people care
you only control you're happiness so make it count
go out and get what you're worth
leave the past in the past, you can't change what happened but you can change the outcome of the future
not everything is meant to be
saying you can't has already defeated you in the beginning
you either get bitter or get better
the choice is not up to fate, It belongs to you

Who is this girl wearing my clothes? Who was this girl lying in my bed just a second ago? Surely she isn't the same girl who enjoys sneaking out to study the stars on a warm summer night, so what was she doing here? Who is this girl, walking in my ratty Vans?
Her eyes drooped from late nights of over thinking, making her age about ten years.
Look at her, she stood as if her legs would give out at any moment.  
Our eyes met for a fraction of a second before she looked away from embarrassment. She shouldn't be embarrassed.. She just needed a good nights rest and a nice meal for sure..  As I reached out to touch the ghostly girl, to let her know that everything was okay, my hands slid down the slick, cold glass that made up my dresser's mirror.
A morning routine.

My death will be liberating.

And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.

No.

I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you

that I do not know what is going
to happen next.

You see,

there is a
fine line
between
dreaming and
mortality

and

I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always
involve

being awake.

And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
nightmares,
hazy realities
and

the hung-over idea

of not being enough.

It is all out of my hands.
                 It is all out of time.

And the only thing I have left to do,
now,


is decide.

Do I worship a God

Who will not fix me?
A God who doesn't care?

I spent years
Praying to Jesus

Seems He wasn't there

Just fix my akward shoulder

This is all I ask

Why should it be
Such a difficult task?

Now I know
What the hunchback
Felt like

The one who hailed
From Notre Dame

Walking on the streets
So ugly and so lame

Jesus healed people
When he lived
But he won't heal me

I have tried everything
Even physical therapy

My left shoulder
Is bigger than my right

And sometimes I cry about it at night

I write honest poetry
So you can see
The pain that lives
Inside of me

I dedicate this poem to
All people who suffer from
Physical problems

I know what it is
To want revenge
To believe that
Killing my own
White Whale
Would give back
What I've lost to it
I know what it is
To lose all of myself
To the things
That only wanted
Parts of me

He has two voices
One is for lying
It sounds almost
Like love
Feels warm and wet
It's for raising
Skin and making
Shivers
It's for winning
Arguments
Changing minds
Bending morals
Unbuttoning shirts
Two is for defying
It sounds like
Seams ripping
Feels like sand paper
It's for saying yes
So loud that
No's are drowned out
It's for cornering
When convincing
Doesn't work
It's for winning
Wars
Closing mouths
Pinning down
For keeping secrets
Kept.

In a prison
She is locked up
The walls are lined with I told you so's
And regret
The air smells of a warmth and brightness 130 miles away
If she could get out,
But she is stuck.
The wind whispers her name
Longing to reach her,
To caress her,
To lightly kiss her skin with wind carried rays of sun.
Some enter on occasion,
But the rest are a longing.
How the wind longs for her
How she hopes to feel the wind
Someday,
She will be out
And the wind will rejoice.