Believe me, I care for you.
I do not know your full story,
and I can't look into your thoughts.
I have no waked in your shoes,
and I may have not gone through what you have.
I may never even understand,
but I know it's hard, and I know it feels hopeless.
I get what it feels like wanting to sleep forever,
as if it would make things better.
I know how it feels to be scared of what's inside,
and you fear for if people knew.
I feel for you when you think you can't change,
when you feel like this monster is a part of you.
You hate what you've become,
But at the same time it's the only escape.
It's an addiction--all of it--
and it's hard to get over.
Suicide may feel like the only solution,
but there's something that keeps you alive.
I love you, and I care for you.
I don't know you, but I truly do.
And because I do, I can't help but share this.
I'm broken.
I've given my life to God,
but I'm not close to being perfect,
and if you read through my poems,
you'll see I have some of the dark thoughts you do.
But I also have peace amidst this storm,
and I have a hope in my Lord.
God has gotten me so far,
and as He continues to work through my life,
I have peace and hope in His plan,
knowing He will continue to deliver me.
I want you to experience this as well,
because I care for you.
I'm here to talk.

If I didn't know better
I'd think you look a bit dead
Like a zombie with a limp
Hands held in front just for the thrill
But you're just sleepwalking
Scared of the pace of change
Afraid to fall put of formation
Talking just to say nothing
Walk with a hunch just proves nothing
I can't be the only one prone
To saying something
We stay in place
For the sake of our comfortability
But for the sake of fairness
And in the spirit of awareness
Can we try out this new point of view
Step around the corner and out of place
Give your life to something better
It's time to wake up

There's a problem with our society
Worse than insecurities, depression, and anxiety
It's how we deal with these problems
Rather, it's how we cause them
If we disagree, we're just wrong
We're put down and told we don't belong
We've not been given a reason for what not to say
We've learned to just hold our thoughts at bay
There are kids who want to talk but fear the label
So they remain quiet and in line, feeling disabled
We wonder why they'd come to school with a gun
Yet we allow where these thoughts begun
There are things missing from our history books
Hidden by the sole judgement of how we look
Drown out the world with sound when alone
It's not their problem, but I don't have a home
A teacher never fails, it's you who takes the blow
But the greatest lessons we'll never know
They teach us the professional way
But we can **** ourselves with razorblades
We rather not talk about suicide
So we push the truth down even further to hide
We become a far more dangerous group of kids
Although it's our culture that forbids
Yet we glorify those of honor and praise
Celebrating them as they gave to the grave
Please don't be afraid of our opinion
But we think our culture treats losses like a win
Listen to me--these words are very convenient
Our opinion will not be lenient
Why is it we know them for their death
But otherwise, we don't care for their breath
We don't quite get what we're communicating
Death is a logical way is what we're saying
They begin to believe they're better off dead
But we must help them get through their head
Our voices are clear--we're demanding action
These people aren't worth it--they get a fraction
I mean no disrespect to who is left behind
But we must know this should not be glorified
We must understand what we're engraving
And the affects on how we're behaving
Do not give to the succession in a grave
But fight with us in the path that we pave
They need to know, together they will get far
This ambiguity is not who we are

I could post the depressing lines in my head
The flow is smoothe and the lines resonate
I could hold a celebration for another name
But the words would save me before I dissipate
Then that would just be returning to the dead
I've decided that between who would die
Ultimately I choose my name to be lame
And I choose my Father to glorify
So between you and I, I'll write for you instead

There's something about a blank
college-ruled notebook.
When I see one in the store, or even
just a page laying out on the table,
I'm enthralled.
I see opportunity, adventure, a
spark of creativty, and a mind
longing to roam free.

painted boy,
with trees on his skin,
uses the drums,
to fight anxiety and win.

skeleton kid,
with eyes haunted by ghosts,
reveals lyrics he once hid,
but he still thinks more than most.

mutant kids,
our hope in our fists,
decide to stay alive,
as our dying wish.

I can't see where I'm going,
but like a blind man's hearing is heightened,
I will listen for the Lord's direction.