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You made a poet fall in love with you
And expected her not to write sonnets about your eyes
Haikus about the way you kissed her in the moonlight
Expected the fire in her heart not to inspire couplets
You made a poet fall in love with you, and when you left
Expected her not to write pages about the ache in her chest
Write a soliloquy dedicated to her tears
Expected her not to feel every gut wrenching moment of the pen hitting paper like your words hit her in the most vulnerable places of her mind.
You made a poet fall in love with you, and you expected her to be silent.
That is no fault of hers.
Vivian Proctor Apr 2015
She's laying alone again.
No one's holding her hand again.
She's crying silently again.

Nothing ever changes. ?She's always going to feel alone.?No one's going to care or notice because she always hides her feelings with a fake smile. She's learned that no one will care unless she's pretty or dying. No one wants a depressed, self destructive mess of a teenage girl. She has so much potential but she just can't see it. She can't see just how much she means to others.

She's terrified. Her mind scaring her more and more with every passing second. Nobody has ever been able to understand the small girl with dulling green eyes. She never let anyone close enough to understand because she didn't want to scare them away or end up hurting them. She wouldn't dare inflict this type of pain and torture upon another soul.

So she laid alone in the dark of night, closing her eyes as her demons took ahold of her mind loud and clear. They made her do things that she wouldn't ever want to do to herself. But as long as it shut them up for a while, then she would do it. Just a distraction. She told herself daily that it wouldn't always be this way but she honestly never allowed herself to believe that repeated, unbelievable statement.  She barely believed a single word anyone said. The voices told her not to believe anything accept them.

Day in and day out she suffers in silence. She takes out their pain and anger on herself. She skips meals, over-exercises, and beats herself up daily so no one else has to. She can't help it, it's the easiest way to distract herself and stop the demons if only for a second.

She'll be okay one day. It may not be for a few years but she'll be alright. But for now, she hides behind fake smiles and long sleeves, crying in the lonely space of her dark bedroom.
Vivian Proctor Apr 2015
I’m tired;
I’m tired of feeling this way every day.
I’m lonely;
It’s not always fun being home all alone.
I’m afraid;
I’m afraid of what I would do to myself if you don’t come back.
I need you;
I need you and your warm, safe arms around me.
Save me;
For I’m drowning and I can’t do this on my own much longer.
Vivian Proctor Mar 2015
As she sat up in bed, a sob escaped her dark red, swollen lips. She looks down at her out-stretched legs and ran her fingers along her thighs as she looked and felt all of the scars and cuts painted across her skin. Tears continued to roll down her pale cheeks, dropping down onto her arms and legs. "Why?" She mumbles to herself. She reaches down under her bed and pulls out a black and silver box. When people see this box, they think there is shiny, beautiful jewelry inside that she would never show. But really, in that box held a lighter, three blades, and a little bag of pills. She lifted the lid off of the box and set it aside as she reached inside, grabbing a hold of a brand new blade and setting it on the bed in front of her. She put in her headphones, listening to Soldier by Before You Exit.

    She twirled the shiny silver piece of metal between her fingers, focusing her attention on the beat of the music in her ears. She held the blade to her leg and slowly cut her flesh. She flinched slightly as the pain shot throw her thigh, slowly becoming numb. A tear silently rolled down her cheek as she sliced again. Her hands were shaking a bit as blood seeped out of her new self-inflicted wounds. She grabbed a piece of tissue from her dresser and dabbed softly at the blood dripping down her leg.

    After wiping off the blade and throwing away the tissue, the broken girl placed the now used metal razor back into the box, pulling out the bag of Tylenol and opening it. "I should sleep before I **** myself up too bad." She whispers to herself as she grabs four pills and puts two into her mouth, swallowing them down with water that she had on her night stand. Repeating her actions with the next two pills.

   She puts on the song Happy Little Pill by Troy Sivan and falls back into her pillow, closing her eyes as her medium length blond hair spreads out across the soft, silk pillow case. The poor, thin girl covers her body with her black comforter and buries her face into the covers.

   As she waits for sleep to overtake her, she imagines being in a lovely field full of flowers and soft grass. She pictures herself laying on her back, looking up at the cloudless sky and at that last thought, she falls into a deep slumber.

— The End —