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SingThe whole world laughed at her
the way she always forgot
the way she always would stir
so she ran
she screamed at the top of her lungs
her legs were pale, her face was tan
her breathing quickened
"Why am I so imperfect?"
she heard a noise, she was suddenly sickened
"Even the birds are laughing"
she was losing her mind
so she sank to the ground
she closed her eyes
and she sang
and for the first time
DreamsWhen the sun goes down
that's when dreams come alive
they swim, stir, creep inside us
Drowning our minds
pushing out everything we know
becoming a part of us
a piece we didn't know was accessible
Some don't know
They live in their own reality
running from themselves
Some reach for them
the reality they call dreams
but I believe these things are very real
They had to come from somewhere
a place that is vivid, and wholly reachable
DeathSo there I stand
with a gun in my hand
It's you I hate
Sticking your nose into things
pushing me until I am on the edge
But just wait and see what timing brings
I'll make you watch the water run red
Don't worry, death is the latest trend
At least you can keep up, right?
I just want to see how far you can bend
I want you out of my sight
So I stand outside your door
On your porch I sit
Just wait and see what I have in store
I watch the entrance... and see you open it
Evil, Deceiving LiarThere are dark skies
she can't see
there are voices
"Meet me at the graveyard"
There are hands
hands that creep out her window
the other one holds her arm
then recites another lie
"Don't worry, it's only dark blue outside."
The WitchShe's a Woman
a mad woman
She takes everything
She twists it all around
at the snap of her fingers
She calls to me
Calls me out in front of everyone
this will be my trial
She tells me not to worry
She doesn't believe in death
Instead, she gives me new life
one I wasn't ready for
She's a woman
a wicked woman
Who Am IWho am I?
I can take any shape you form me into
I can run so fast the world will never sees me, I run in circles
Who am I?
I fell so good in your hands, but I always slip away
I can hurt and heal
Who am I?
I thrash around all the time, looking for someone take take under
Who am I?
The Water? Or you?
I Am.I am as clean as a mess
I am as dark as the light
I am as loud as a mouse
I am as big as a flea
I am as fast as a sloth
I am as sly as a deer
I am as threatening as a lamb
I am as beautiful as a razor
I am as curvy as a board
I am as short as a giraffe
I am healed as a fresh-cut
I am as strong as a kitten
I am happy as a tear
I am... me
Me and Peter PanI want to have a dream
of dark night skies
of sweet lullabies
I want to dream that we shoot the moon
That we skip thorough June
Hand in Hand
No one will ever understand
I want to dream that we ride hot air balloons
Then we fight aliens until noon
And when dinner calls
We eat monster claws
I want to dream that I run away
That you'll hug me and say
"don't be afraid of the dark, I will be here holding your hand"
I want to dream that we ride horses
Make our own allied forces
That we promise to never grow up
That we drink from the King's finest cups
I want to dream that you'll always be there to
fight my aliens
to shoot the moon
And to hold my hand in the dark
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
You Know Who You AreSo this is for you
You Know who you are
your name is written in the stars
millions and millions of miles away
just close enough to touch
and I read what they say
Do you even miss me?
Do you even care?
If you don't I can't help to notice that you stare
you seem lost
do you need help?
that's too bad
you're gone now
and I'm proud
because this time
you were the one to fall
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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