I am the spring, gentle and kind.
I am the summer, outgoing and enthusiastic.
I am the autumn, dreamy and sweet.
I am the winter, shy and quiet.

I spread my flowers through the wind.
I give everybody a good time.
I help everyone come together.
I provide endless cuddle opportunities.

I am warmth.
I am light.
I am love.
I am togetherness.

I am not the seasons.
I am the flower.

Blooming in spring.
Flourishing in summer.
Wilting in autumn.
Dying in winter.

The pain in my stomach
Is nothing compared
To the pain in my ears,
From the demons in my head
Shouting at me.

The angels try to silence them,
But they too fall to the screams.

I'm doing everything the demons say,
Yet they still want more.
They always want more.

I promised I wouldn't do it!
But the demons don't care.
After all, if a promise is only as strong
As the word of the person who makes it,

Then my promises are weak.

I snap the chains.
And the demons are finally satisfied.

"Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof"
Okay, I'll clap.
Because I feel like I don't have a roof.

A roof means stability.
A home.
Without a roof, I just have four walls.
No protection from the world.

The wind blows over me.
The rain falls on me.
And one day, when my house inevitably caves in,
I'll be there in the middle

Still clapping.

This isn't a poem.
This is a thank you.
To everyone still on HelloPoetry.
I've read some amazing poems, only to find the account dead.
And I know only around 16-20 people will read this.
And that's okay.
My poems ****.
But, I just wanted to thank everyone who's brave enough to write.
To share their mind with the world.
Thank you for inspiring me.
Thank you for giving me courage.
Thank you.

If I say it enough, I'll believe it.
As long as I hold on to that fake promise,
I should be fine.
Right?
If I say it enough, I can trick myself.
I can trick my survival instincts.
I can trick my common sense.
If I say it enough, the demons will believe it, too.
And I can trick myself into believing my lies.
My truthful lies.
If you say it enough, it'll become true.
I'll make your wish come true.
And my lies become reality.
If I say it enough, will you believe it?

There's a place
I like to go
Where nobody says yes
And nobody says no

Nobody argues
For nobody's there
Nobody is mean
And nobody cares

It's always quiet
The silence never ends
But I'm not alone
Nobody's my best friend

Step right up and hit the girl!
She belongs to you anyways.
Girl for sale! Girl for sale!
Too bad she's worth dirt.
Extra, extra, read all about it!
Auction today, all the girls you could ever want!
It doesn't matter how they feel.
You're in control.
A new toy comes along, replacing me.
Don't worry. I'll wait in the trash for you to get bored.

If you're sad,
You're sad.
You can't fix it.
You can't stop it.
You can't be put together again.
Accept that you're sad.
Then you have two choices.

Either live your life as a lie.
A faker.
Constantly wearing a mask.

Or you can do the second choice.
The easiest choice.
A permanent solution to a temporary problem.

Each choice ends in death.

To You.

Hey.
I heard what happened.
I'm not going to bother with that 'are you okay' stuff.
Because clearly, you're not.
And you won't be for a while.
When something like that happens, you can't just be 'okay'.
You can say you're okay.
You can act like you're okay.
But a true friend of yours knows you're not.

They can't use your heart as a playtoy when it's worth so much more than that.
You are worth so much more than that.

You fell in love, and they crashed you down.
They smashed you on the ground.

You can't just smash a plate on the ground and expect it to go back together instantly.

No matter how many times you beg, or ask nicely, or wish, it won't fix itself by itself.

A heart is the same way.

And when people say those things to you, those terrible things...
Then your heart breaks even more. Even more pieces to fix.

But I'm here.
I'll pick up the glue.
And I'll work on mending your heart.

Not fixing. You can't fix something like that.
But at least stitching it all together in a heart-like shape.

I won't let you stay broken.

Because you don't deserve that, no matter what they say.

Do you know what you do deserve?

You deserve love.
You deserve to be loved.
You deserve the world.
You deserve the entire universe in the palm of your hand.

And I wish I could be the one to give it to you.

But even though I can't, I'll stay by your side.
I hope knowing that makes you feel better.

I can't replace them. I can't truly fix the damage they've done.
But I can be here.

You just tell me what you need. Okay? Even if it means that you want me to leave. Because all I care about is that you're happy.

Promise me that you'll take care of yourself. I know everything's really tough right now, but I need you to be strong.
I know you're strong. You're stronger than anyone I know.

So please, just stay with me, alright? I believe in you.

It'll all be okay.

Love,
Me.

I take out my cauldron.
The first ingredient is always the most important.
Rummaging through my drawers, I finally find the perfect one.
I pop in a piece of paper.
Next, I reach for my desk.
I pop in a jar of ink.
Stirring the ***, I open the lid of my head.
These ingredients are the hardest to find.
A pinch of inspiration.
A dash of creativity.
A cup or two of words.
They all go in the cauldron.
Finally, it's time for the last ingredient.
The last ingredient is always the most important.
I reach into my heart.
Carefully, carefully, I pull out all my love.
Carefully, carefully, I put it in the ***.
Mix! Stir! Whirl! Spin!
There. It's done.
I pull out a fresh poem.
I am an Alchemeist of Imagination.

Hands wrapped together in an eternal *******.
Promises whispered to the universe.
Your touch, so soft, like a butterfly's wings.
Our heartfelt embrace and our final farewell.
If I'd known that it would've been forever, I would've held on a little longer.
Held you a little tighter.
Kissed you a little more.
The streetlight, flickering, bathed in moonlight.
The rain, blanketing the world in a blinding mist.
A screech of tires.
A flash of blood.
You, my love, were no more.
You left me forever.
And you took my heart with you.

All. Over. Me.
I. Can't. See.
I. Can't. Think.
They reach for me.
They reach for my body.
They reach for my brain.
But they can't find anything.
Groping, groping, groping.
Hands claw at the air.
Shouting, shouting, shouting.
Where am I?! Where am I?!
The hands reach out once more.
Reaching, reaching, reaching.
But they can't find anything.
I am too far gone.

She's sitting alone in her room.
You look at her and you think:
God, she's beautiful.
But she can't see it.
Nobody can but you.
Your words, your kisses, your empty promises
They flow out of her.
She's tried as long as she can to hold on,
But she's broken.
And you're not.
She's done holding you back.
You're done holding her here.
In the end, nobody's happy.

Is this a poem?
No.
It's just words on a screen.
Poetry is art.
It's beautiful.
What you see here is just letters
Forming sounds
Forming words
Forming lines
Forming death

No matter how long I tried,
I was never good enough.
No matter how little I ate,
I was never skinny enough.
No matter how long I stayed,
I was never loyal enough.
No matter how much I cried,
I was never emotional enough.

I was never enough for you.
I was never enough for anyone.

I have been created.
Called.
Summoned.
It echoes through dimensions.
The call only I can hear.
The scream.
The whisper.
The echo.
The call only I can hear.
It changes as I listen.
It goes loud, booming into my ears.
It goes quiet, until I strain myself to hear it.
Even when it fades, it's still there in my head.
In my head.
In my head.
In my head.
It screams at me.
Too loud!
Stop!
Please!
But the call doesn't listen.
It just keeps shouting.
In my head.
In my head.
In my head.

Sniffing
Sobbing
Wordlessly
Conveying
My
Emotions
Conveying
The
P­ain
The
Tears
Fall
With
Every
Single
One
That
Stains
My
Floor
Out­
Goes
A
Memory
Of
You





I am at peace again.

Where
Am
I?
Opened
Up
My
Eyes
But
I
Can't
See.
I
Am
Surrounded
By­
An
Endless
Abyss.
Looking
Through
The
Screen,
I
See
The
Next
Dim­ension.

Everyone was looking for it.
The legend.
Nobody knew what it was.
But I blindly followed them on the search.
Traveling endlessly, we answered the call of adventure.
Most turned back.
They tuned in to the monotony of life and ignored the call.
But not me.
I stayed.
Searching, even when all others had given up.
Then, one day, I found it.
It wasn't much.
Just a small hole.
But it stretched into infinity.
I looked in, and I was greeted by a mindshattering sight.
I looked in to myself.
"You have come far."
"But only to fail."
"This is not your legend."
"Your legend is yourself."
I watched myself fade away, and relished in my new knowledge.
I no longer heard the call of adventure.
I heard the call of the universe.
The call of myself.

Who will I be when I wake up today?
Peppy, moody, angry, snooty?
All my personalities are waiting for their turn.
Artsy, smart-aleck, rude, idiot?
I open my closet.
All the personalities wait to be worn.
You know what?
Today I won't be what you want.
I close the closet and get ready for school.
Today, I'll just be me.

Love is a picnic on a warm summer day.
Love is accidentally holding hands during a movie.
(All I wanted was the popcorn...)
Love is sitting next to them at the lunch table.
Love is sharing your cookies, even when you want them all.
(They were freshly baked!)
Love is drying your tears, no matter how they feel.
Love is being their shoulder to cry on.
(How do I tell them?)
Love is, love is, love is...
Love is you.

Words.
All poems start with a word.
All poems end with a word.
But the middle?
That's up to the poet.
The middle is my hopes and dreams.
The middle is my secrets and desires.
The middle is my love and sadness.
The middle, my love, is where the poem begins.
But my middle never ends.
It just keeps going.
On and on and on.
Hopes and dreams and secrets and desires and love and sadness.
Words, words, words.

She disliked me from the moment she saw me.
'Whispered' to you,
(But we all could hear her)
That I was no good for you.
I tried to prove myself.
I worked as hard as I could.
And just when I finally became something...
Just when I finally thought she could accept me...
You left me.
I guess she was right.
I was no good for you.
I'm no good for anyone.
I'll be leaving now, taking my shattered hopes with me.

What is this world's obsession with being known as one thing?
To society, you can only have one trait.
Artsy, smart, bookworm, gamer.
Pick one thing now, because you'll be it for the rest of your life.
You're an original, exactly like everyone else.
But still...
I'd rather have my personality labeled then my sexuality or gender.
Why do you care what I'm known as?
I can be bi one morning and lesbian the next!
I can be a girl one morning and a boy the next!
You can't stick a label on being yourself.

Although I am freezing, I warm your heart.
I bring everyone together, though I'm gone by morning.
Swirling down in a haze, I cover everything in beauty,
But you can't admire me without destroying me.

What am I?

The comet streaks down, tail red like blood.
So beautiful and so terrible.
Will it **** me, or will I **** myself?
I know the answer.
The comet is my mind.
The comet is the demons in my head.
The comet is coming for us all.

I open up the website. A million worries nag in my head.
Does nobody get it?
Does everyone hate it?
Is one-word titles stupid?
Are my words stupid?
Words swirl around in my head.
I pop open my skull and pull out a fresh poem.
I grab my bottle of inspiration and mix it up.
There. It's done.
Time to set my words free.

I spent all night drawing.
My friends said they love it.
But I'm no good, so why bother trying?

I practiced the song for weeks.
I got first place in the talent show.
But I'm no good, so why bother trying?

I spent hours perfecting the recipe.
They ate all of it, and asked for more.
But I'm no good, so why bother trying?

We hid behind the bleachers.
You had your lips parted, ready for a kiss.
But I'm no good, so why bother trying?

Why try when I've already failed?

Sometimes I'm not sure what I am.
A poet?
An author?
Or am I just some idiot who thinks her stories are worth sharing?
That's right. Her. I'm a girl.
A girl who can't figure out what she wants in life.
To write poetry?
To write love stories?
To write exciting stories?
Or maybe, I just want to write.
Write.
Let the words flow out of me, like a spout from my brain.
Write.
Let the words come from you.
It doesn't matter how good they are.
Just leave a trail of words behind you.
Write.
Like me.
And maybe one day, you'll find yourself.

We played hide-and-seek,
But you weren't looking for me.
We played tag,
But I was always it.
It's all fun and games,
Until I start writing poetry.
Then you know that you're well and truly *******.
There. It's done.
What you did is posted for the world to see.
Hope you enjoyed your game.