UntitledA friend has diedAnd many shall mournWe approach the funeral suffering and forlornBitter tears are falling all aroundAside this rain, there's but a soundThe shuffles of feetThe muffles of the sobsSome curse the bulliesSome curse GodWord after wordIt tore into her heartEating her awayUntil she broke apartNo one seemed to noticeAnd I don't think they caredMy best friend had diedShe wasn't preparedI lost a friendAnd she lost her heartBefore I knew it, it all fell apartThe rumors they spreadAnd her hatred did tooShe became a girl I know longer knewThe bitterness it spreadSo thick and so darkShe doesn't talk anymoreNot even her snide remarksSee, someone had diedBut others did tooBroken hearts all aroundOh, the tears how they flew.
MirrorsWhy is it when I call myself fatPeople comfort me?I didn't think loving my bodyWas a sad thing to doWhy is it when they call themselves skinnyEveryone applauds them?Sometimes they wish they were biggerBecause then they could fill everyone's eyes with wonderI learn not to hear these wordsWords that are like mirrorsTo reflect the flaws of my body to meBecause I know, one day, that mirror will shatterAnd if I hold on to those words which reflected my imageI'll end up cutting myself on the broken bits of "me"The insults I would have thrived uponInstead of chasing after the grand mirror,cutting myself on the would-haves and could-havesI'll invest in a new mirrorOne as golden as my body image isAnd one as small as the voice in my head telling me I'm "Beautiful as is"Because no mirror captures my image betterThan the one that is held by me.
Thick with SugarSweeter and sweeterAnother piece of cakeTastier and tastierThis pain she cannot takeSour, so sourA gumdrop or fourWhen the box emptiesShe only looks for moreChips and candyOh, she eats it allIf her sorrow was measured by her stomachShe outweighs them allSadder, and sadderHer stomach weighs as suchLouder and louderThe sound of her gutDrowning out the sadnessShe'll eat another slice of cakeHer stomach's as heavy as her heartBecause of this pain she cannot take
CannotI don't respond to affectionI don't think I deserve itBut when you cry, and want to dieI remind you that you're worth itI remind you you can do many thingsThings that I cannotAnd always I remind myselfI'm destined just to rotI don't see a future for myselfNo, it's just not thereBut whenever I can I'll make you understandIt's always thereIf I could give this depression away as easily as I give adviceThen maybe I'd be happyAnd my heart melted of ice
Glass Is Half EmptyIf her depression were measuredby the tears she's shedShe'd fill a glassAnd as alwaysYou'd ask for more.
LoveIs not "standing up" for your friendswhen you cut others downIs not the relationship that comes with free artAnd no late-night talksIt is not how much money someone spends on youFor clothes, websites, or anythingLoveIs built upon inside jokeslate-night phone calls,pep-talks before the big test tomorrowLove is laughterIn both sorrow and jubilationLove is the embrace you givethat never faltersBecause in this harsh worldWhen love seems to be the polluted definition oftragedy and angerAll we can do is give others the warmth of our wordsThe kindness of our soulAnd the assuring embraceTo go on another day.
AnchorsIf depression were like a seaConstantly threatening to pull me underThen you’d be my anchorDrowning me with the weight you make me carry
UntitledAge five was when she felt it, a painful sting in her heartAge five is when those tantrums began, just to keep her world from falling apartAge seven was when she compared herself, and knew she wasn't enoughAge seven was when she realized, just how much she wanted to give upAge nine she was a little girl who didn't have great luckAge nine she was a little girl who thought she was fucked upAge ten she wasn't human, she was cruel jokes and rumors, tooAge ten she wasn't a girl just like me or youAge eleven she wanted a boy just to know that she was thereAge eleven was the time she knew that no one really caredAge thirteen she realized this sadness, that loomed overheadAge thirteen she never had a feeling stronger, than wanting to be deadAge fourteen things got better, the weather not so roughAge fourteen she thought things may be starting to look upAge fifteen she found relief, something other than feeling numbAge fifteen she hasn't convinced herself that she's actually love
SocializationShe's got a nice front to her.Conversation seems easy.She seems like a lovely girl,But her attitude its just sleazy.--She thinks she's doing many great thingsBy being everyone's counselor,My, that has to sting,To talk to people for hours.--She's lazy and lonely, what a terrible mixWill she ever socialize properly?Or is that a problem we can't fix?--She wants people to talk to herBut she can't keep it goingShe seems like a smart girlBut her social skills aren't flowing.--Do people tire of her as much as she does them?Is she really happy? Does she really have friends?She's just a nobody in a sea of potential,If her social skills were better, maybe she'd become essential.
Words Are Powerful ThingsYou’re so angryYou let words swarm up inside.Screaming to get out.They yell and shout.They sit there,And fester.Turning into horrid things that should never be even whispered,In the softest tone.You get so angryCause you’re so afraid.Like so many other peopleYou let your fear burst into rage.The monstrous words inside of youRefuse to remain in their cages.You let those words escape your lips,All of the sudden you feel like your words have killed someone.As you see their face.Words are suddenly bullets.They’ve pierced your victim’s heart.Fragments of a once pretty, friendship scatter on the floor.The pieces so broken, I doubt you could find all of the shards to make it whole again.There’s a slamming of a door.Whether that be real,Or just a metaphor.To say you’ve been locked out,Pushed away.From this once dear friend of yours.I hope one day.You’ll find better wordsTo form a key.So you can find your way back to them.
I am LostMy thoughts are orcasTrapped in bathtubs.Macrocosms trappedWithin microcosms -Stuck, glued tight,Melting like Dali's clock,In a cock fightWith my conscience.Sometimes I forgetAll that regretBurning through -A pain so foreverThat I hardly everFeel it anymore.A cut so deep and quickThat it stops -Time is static -Before it bleeds.Eyelashes likeDandelion seedsFluttering in the wind.So much to see.My heart is vacant,My lungs made of leadAnd both are my enemiesBecause I'd rather be dead.But no I wouldn't.Not anymore.I'm fake, made of a paper -A corporate rock whore -And I don't knowWhat I stand for.But maybe I don't have toStand for anything -A word without a definitionStill leaves a markOn pure paper.A meaningless sparkCan still become a fire.A tickle of loveCan still become desire.
untitledthere are a thousandunwritten love letters in your eyesnow I keep thinking aboutgravityand the color greenall I know is thatmy skull's beenovertaken mapped cleanwith inkwarriors traversing well worn pathsboots leaving tracks acrosschests and necksand it's comfortablethis sinkingit's not like drowningmore like slowly loweringinto hot bathwaterand we are just skin and cosmosbodies and wordsour tongues landlockedwe are adrift inour own little seawe've plucked our wingsand now we can't flytell me the truththat the sky's overratedI'd rather be with youon the groundor buried beneath itskeletons entwined truthfullyI've always thought heaven was a pretty sort of liebut I've read a book or twoabout heavenor people's idea of itat leastand I disagree with myselfpopping thought balloonson the idea that heavenis in the way your eyes fold origami swans when you smilethat shitty laughthat hollow above your heartlike your chest's caving i
When the Sun RisesI miss the way you used to be.I miss the way you'd smile at me.How the joy would make the corners of your eyes crinkle.You'd laugh softly.Shaking your head,I miss that.How real it sounded.I listened to you now,And that old little light melody of laughter is no where to be found.You still laughYou joke.But your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.I don't think I've ever met someone with such sad,Solemn eyes.As you look upon yourselfAnd you can't help but despise what you see.You used to walk,With your head held high.You don't anymoreYou keep them glued to the floor.Scared to acknowledge your train wreck of a lifeThat lays before you.I still think you're beautiful though.Even if you're growing faintLike a sunset,Falling into the darkness of the night.With each slowly fading ray of light.You're still perfect, and make people stop and stare in awe.But just like the sun sets.And you get pulled under into the dark of the night.When all of your light is goneYou'
I Am Only a MarionetteI am only a marionetteDancing on a stringForced to entertain the massesFor joy I'm meant to bring.I am only a puppet,A plaything to be shown.I can't escape the mass's willOr make decisions of my own.I am just an instrumentForced to bend to standards.I cannot rise and free myselfAgainst society's banners.I am only a marionette,Made for other's sake,Made to do as others wishUntil the day I break.
Happy Songs on the RadioI don't write about happy things.I don't listen to songs about romance.I can't feel what the artist is singing so passionately about.The longing to know what it's like makes me want to scream and shout.The way people write and lace words together,About how happy and perfect they see the world.Has always been a stranger to me.I wish I could see,The way you did.I really do.I wish I could feel the same way as you.To be able to hear the lyrics,'I love you'And picture someone to match those three words.I wish I could hear these songs,About how everything is perfect.Absolutely nothing is wrong.But I can't.I hear those songs and I feel empty.Because I can't feel what they're saying.And I keep listening,But I am just wasting my timeTrying but failing to relate.When I hear the songs on the radio.They make me squirm in my seat.I feel happy but sad.Something so bitter sweet.Because part of me feels so happy for the person.Who sings so happily.But another, darker half.
O K A YI stress too muchI don’t sleep wellSome days I’m happy,Some days it’s hell.If I complain, I’m seen as weakThey’ll mock and laugh for days and weeksYears of tortureYears of painI’m contemplating on ending this game.Helping others,I do that bestI just want to be treated like the rest.The game goes on,But I’m far from weakI’ll strive on forwardsMy light’s not meek.Things may be hardBut they’ll be okay.I can play this game another day.