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I want to look at myself and think **** and beautiful
And somehow I think I can get there by bending over a toilet puking out the barely 200 calories in which I just consumed
my, my, unharmed skin
what, what should I do to you?
Not only only happy dreams come true
Blood, blood, blood, blood does, too
piece of, of paper
what should I - I write on you?
maybe of he who loves me,
untouched-touched bare skin
what shall I clothe you wi-th?
none will look - look either way
new, new, new life born. . .
what should make of, of you?
criti - criti - criticism will still come
my, my, my, my unharmed skin
forgive me for using - using these past tense
wrote this in class today.
I'd rather write a moody poem that has found it's home
Than a joyfull one with no place to go
it hurts
is it supposed to hurt ?
                 if you knew what i've been doing
                 you would not say "i love you"
                                                       each time failing
                                                       has lowered my confidence another tries worth
                                                                                                                          why is this pain
                                                                                                                          so relieving ?
i fail even at harming myself
some nights I want to stop trying
*shh, as soon as you stop crying
when did I become
Everything I'm running from?
I hate my body. Okay, I said it. I look in my mirror and think how did this happen and why. I contemplate bad things. I do the bad things. The bad things don't work like I wanted them to. My body is still a bad thing. I am so ashamed. I can't even let my love look at me. I hate my body and what it has become. Now I try to do good things. If good things don't work, I do bad things to make the good things work now. Will my body ever be a good thing? I think walking in the door and staring at your reflection and breaking out in tears when you realize how you looked the whole day is enough to make one want to rid these bad things. But isn't the irony so that to rid the bad things one must do more? Bang. Slash. Swallow. Beep. This is me leaving. This is me leaving my hated body behind. This is me doing bad things to my bad body.
. . . When has it become so bad?
Here's a fact.
Here's the truth.
Here's my heart surrendered
At the thought of never knowing you again.
Here's the fact.
Here's a truth.
Here are my arms abandoned
With the feel of never touching you again.
Hear this fact.
Hear my truth.
Absorb my bleeding tongue
As it has let these gory words flow through.
Hear my heart.
Hear my cry
As I recognize my last,
My forever last living glimpse of you.
coming to know reality
nobody knows how broken I am
nobody sees what's written in my skin
nobody hears when I cry out to the dark
nobody loves me when I feed my flesh to sharks
But my heart is screaming... How can you just pick and choose what you want to hear?
There's this boy and me
there's this boy I love
This boy and me
grew up not far from each other
but never yet crossed paths
until we were ready, this boy and me
see, this boy and me
we went through similar things
this boy had his bullies
And me, I was my own
There's this boy
who I think I'm going to marry
Yeah, me, the girl that
didn't think she would live past thirteen
there's this boy who makes everything okay
And me who finally sees happiness
asleep or wide awake
there's this boy and me
you may not know, but you're going to see
strolling hand in hand
Thirty years from now still.
feeling in love and okay.
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