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This blade I use
As my paint brush,
My arm as my canvas;
Pale and innocent,
Save for scars from another time.

They will be joined,
Together,
In yet another
Beautiful, red painting.

My wrist, the white horizon
In the background.
self harm in the form of cutting.
 Jul 2013 Whitney
Olga Valerevna
I must've died a thousand times before I somehow came to find
A boy who knew the same as I
that we belonged inside the sky
And so the days would wander by
We'd gotten close, not asking why
For it was truth that made us fly
Until the middle of July
.
.
.
Our story ceased to carry on
Released our hands and we were gone
Direction put him down upon
The very carriage he had drawn
My voice was harsh, he heard it wrong
I said too much, a denouement
But save the chance he comes along I'll keep my voice to sing our song
a poem about an old familiar friend
 Jun 2013 Whitney
Sora
Head's throbbing
The demons have come, they're robbing
Everything I hold close to me, nothing's staying
My life is what I might end up paying

Not a thing in this ******* world
Is worth having all your happiness wrecked, your life unfurled
And you have to be punched day after day
Hiding in the shadows, praying that everything would just be okay

Razors become friends
After tonight, you don't even care if your tattered body mends
Mirrors take a shot at your heart
Force you into believing things will be better if they come from a shopping cart

Nothing's quite real
Your senses shut down, you get to the point where you can't feel
Locking yourself into the deepest hole
People try to save you, they pry at your bunker,  and it's starting to take its toll

You reach the bottom.. You go head first
Anybody could see your want for love, an undying thirst
Your best friends smile can't even make life worth living
This ******* world you got chained down in is unforgiving

Caught in daze
You're trapped in the back of the worlds hardest maze
You go in a million circles for nine years
Seems as if you're soul is being sold by an auctioneer

You're worthless
As the days go by, you become mirthless
A rope is there, you know where it leads
But you know that it leads to major needs

Slip off your ledge
Here at the bottom we all silently took this pledge
That we would all end life together, unified souls
All that we would leave behind were coals

Then one by one, we fought back
We were tired of all this grey and black
Fought for each breath
No longer dancing with death

We were going to make it out of here one way or the other
We climbed for our sisters, our brothers, our fathers, our mothers
WE could make it through Hell
We were getting out of this city.. Done listening to that ******* city bell

Fighters, survivors, all one in the same
Our passion had come back to us, we wanted the gold and the fame
Of being a somebody, of being worth something someday
Honestly, if you want to live like us, to  live like a stray

Go ahead, be my guest
See what it feels like to be on Suicide Road strapped into a death vest
You threw away gold Riley. You just threw it away.
Once we shut off the lights and close the door, you'll just self-destruct and decay.

I love you way too much for you to go down
Your prince, he wears the most beautiful crown
But babe, I promise you, he won't be down there
Listen to me, I've been there and you know what.. I'm stupid enough to care

Things may not be perfect
And this whole wanting to change is just a side effect
If you slip too far, you're in the eye of the super storm
You'll be dead or near to it.. I can't let you go and try to see you transform

So don't go Riley. Please.
You're standing at the door
In my hand are the keys.
If you want them, you and I'll have to go to war.
I am not going to let you do this.
You don't know what you're going into.
Best scenario, you wreck everything you love and you're still alive.
You were meant to live this life you have been. Nothing like my life should ever turn into yours.
Riley, you have WAY TOO  MUCH to throw out the window. Especially when you're in H.S.
If I didn't care, I would hand you the keys to that ****** up world without a problem.
But I love you. Don't go.
 Jun 2013 Whitney
blankpoems
never fall in love with the girl who writes poems about you
she’ll end up caring for you more than she cares about poetry
and that will mean destruction for both of you
she will compare you to the stars and the breath out of her own lungs
and she will count the minutes until she can be with you next
this is entirely troublesome, especially if you don’t feel the same way
although if you don’t, a heartache will be cause for more inspiration
I suppose love is a win win situation for writers-
fall in love, you have inspiration
fall out of it, you have inspiration

never fall in love with the girl who writes poems about you
she will get to attached
she will love you too much
she will fall in love with the curve of your spine
and the form of your smile
and the structure of your bones
and the placement of your words on her mouth
and the way your hair falls floppily out of place
and the way you don’t love her at all

never fall in love with a writer
never fall in love with the girl who writes poems about you
never fall in love with me
 Jun 2013 Whitney
blankpoems
I once was a colorful little girl
and I had big blue eyes, and I still do
the only difference is now I wear black
so much that they’re not blue anymore;
they’re gray
and I guess that’s kind of fitting because
I feel gray all the time
I feel as though my soul is being ****** out of me
from a straw and the juice box is labelled depression
Everybody looks on like I’m a car accident;
Scared, doe-eyed, unsure if they should call for help
I yell at them not to, but in the same breath I whisper “please do”
My biggest fear is myself and I’ve burnt all the ropes
so I can’t fall from grace
Not that I was anything close to being graceful while I was still vibrant
“Old soul” they whispered
“EMPATH” they taunted
But how long can the seven year old girl with the 98 year old soul
and the sensitivity to others feelings care for others without losing sight of herself?
How long can she read others’ emotions before she stops reading her own?
Before she stops feeling her own?
Not long.
 Jun 2013 Whitney
blankpoems
If I should find a time machine I will travel back in time to when you were six years old.
I will look into your scared, not yet masked in makeup doe eyes and I will tell you that everything will be okay.
I will let you know that even though you don’t feel six years old, you are.
And next year you will be seven, and then eight.
And no, maybe when you’re 16 you will not feel 16, but you will feel 22.
And when you’re 17, you’ll age four years because of broken hearts and the evil of the world.
And I will tell you that even though in a few years time, when you are nine, and you think you know everything that this world has to offer, you won’t.
And that will be okay.
Sometimes it is okay not to know everything.  Even though you want the answers, I swear to god sometimes it is okay to not know.
And even though your world is falling apart right now, and home feels like a battlefield, and you are the grenade set to explode, you aren’t.
And even though your parents are on opposing fields and armies
And even though you are no man’s land, stuck in the middle of a firing squad
And even though you have lost the ability to cry because at six years old you feel numb
And even though you lost the one pair of arms you felt safe in
And even though you want to save your brother from the childhood you are currently living in,
you have to stop worrying.
You are six years old, and soon you’ll be seven.
And you won’t feel seven.
You’ll feel seventeen.
And I’ll feel twenty six.
Because I have lived my life for seventeen years and I know that you are scared because I am scared too.
It will get worse before it gets better, I promise you that much.
But you will spend your entire life trying to find the perfect balance between happy and sad, the good and evil and your mom and dad.
And when you are seventeen, you’ll feel twenty six.
And you might understand.
If I should find a time machine I will travel back in time to when I was six years old.
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