I can feel myself
sliding away.
I try to speak.
I try to let the words
spill, but I
clam up.
My vocal chords
freeze, and
nothing comes out.
I gape and gasp like a
frog,
but all of me
chokes up.

My throat tingles,
my tongue goes to the back of my
mouth.
My mind is turning
against me.

I think strange thoughts.
What would happen if I
took this pen and
shoved it down my
throat?
If I drank all my
pills?
If I curled up in a corner and mumbled
insanities
to myself-
nonstop?

I want to
kick and scream,
flail around on the ground and
give myself rugburns
Slam into things and bruise.
Take a razor to my
legs, arms
I've done it before.
I have scars.
Scars of insanity.

But am I really
insane?
Would they really help me at a
loony bin?
I think not.
I'm not even insane,
though.
I'm just a
stupid,
naive,

hopeless

hormonal teenager.
And besides,
I may be too far gone into my
withdrawal.
It's too late.
I can't go back to the way I was
before,
when I was
happier.



It's all too late.

Remember these smiles?
Those happier days when we could
Innocently think that these days
Were the best of our lives?
Nothing could happen to us
We were the strongest
Our fathers knew nothing of our struggle
Our mothers sang nothing of our trials
Nothing could touch us
We were flawless
Then we dropped from heaven
Ground into the dirt and blood
Salty tears and cries for our mothers
To clean up our messes and tend to
Our rugburns and scratches
No kiss could fix
And that scared the hell out of us
We saw what the real world was like
Our parents tried to shelter us from
The empty Starbucks coffee cups and reality television shows
And what we saw brought tears to our eyes
And a song to our lips
We want so much more
We need so much more