You know those thoughts.
The thoughts that creep in
when you let your guard down.

"They don't like me."
"I'm so fat."
"I can't do this."

These little thoughts I try to forget
But it's two am and they're back
Because they won't stay away forever.

"They weren't really my friends"
"I wish they would talk to me."
"I hate this. I hate myself."

I grew up fast.
I went to meetings with my father,
begged my mother to stop shouting.

I would lay awake at night,
listening to them argue.
My unversed brain not understanding.

I grew up too fast.
Relentlessly hoping for happiness,
always trying to be better.

I wanted to make everyone happy
And in doing so,
I lost my own happiness.

I don't believe in love.
Never once have I felt that spark.
The fluttering, the happiness,
That doesn't exist.  

The men I have known,
have not been kind.
The gentleman with the soft kiss,
He doesn't exist.

Let me hear a lie,
to ease the bitter taste
the truth has left behind.
Lies taste so sweet,
sickly and sticky and sweet.
Tell me everything will be okay.
Tell me it gets better.
Let me hear a lie.

Why do mourning and morning
sound so alike?

For mourning is the kind
of thing
for endings

And mornings
Are more like
Beginnings

So, this is fate.
It is not what I thought it would be.
I must say,
I never understood it,
but now,
I understand even less.
So, this is fate.

Won't you come,
come dwell in the shadows?*
I've always found the night
to be far safer than day.
Live in the shadows,
embrace the darkness,
you needn't hide away
when the world is dark.
Dark is cozy and safe,
Sunlight is so harsh,
never gentle anymore.
Won't you come?
The shadows are so enticing.
Love in the darkness,
Where you will be safe.

Does he take care of you?
Does he hold you when you cry?
Does he listen to your fears
and share his own with you?
Where do you feel things?
He feels fear is his throat,
you feel it crawling up your spine
like spiders with too many legs.
What if he doesn't feel
love the same way as you?
That burning, like a shot of *****,
Like you swallowed fire.
What if you don't feel the same?

What is the price for my soul?
For I would sell it,
In exchange for all the time I lost,
Every last minute spent afraid.
My soul is of no value to me,
If I spend my life as a shell,
A shell of what I could be.

Will you take it?
Do you realize what you're doing?
I understand, it doesn't matter, I want to be happy.
All souls are miserable in the end.
Well then, give me the chance,
And I will give you my soul.
A drop of your blood will seal the contract.
I hope you realize what you've done to yourself.
I don't want your warnings, it is too late to go back.
It is done. I will see you in the end, my delicate soul.
*There will be no rest, for your eternal life.

I'm so sick of being called cold.
I know.
I know.
I'm not like you.
Not anymore.
I know I'm distant.

But... I'm tired and empty
and I don't have the energy
to pretend anymore.

So go ahead,
Go ahead and call me a
Frigid *****
I did nothing to you but keep my distance,
But go ahead.

I know,
**I know I'm cold.

I always considered myself
a little messed up.
I never meant to hurt anyone,
but it seems I have.
Myself and others,
drowning in my monstrosity.

I never wanted to be monster
but I've lost sight of my humanity.
The pain I cause is always regretted,
but never enough to satisfy.
Who is the monster and who is the man?
I am both and he who made me this way is too.

I dreamt of death.
I knew people were going to die.
Each circumstance and cause of death.
I tried to save them.
Every effort failed,
I desperately warned them of their fates.
The demon of death
Came to me,
Angry that I had stolen her prey
And she said to me:
Visionary, it matters not whom I take
you can't save them all
so forget the knowledge gifted unto you.
To me she looked normal, like any other person,
But she began to melt, a look of pain seared on her face.
*Visionary, forget what you saw.

You're so cold to touch
on this grey morning.
He promised we'd be forever young
but it's only an eternal dream
with an inevitable end.
The sign said happiness for rent
and I'd take that over a home.
I don't want to know the gory details
and I'd rather not look at the broken souls.
Is this how we intend to live out our days?
I just want to go home once more.

You keep talking,
but all you ever say
means *nothing.

I don't believe in destiny,
in some grand plan for me.
My achievements are my own,
As are my failures, my mistakes,
My miscomings and misdeeds.
The things I've experienced,
Who could have planned those?
If someone had planned for
the terrible things I've known,
All I can say is
*it must be a cruel god indeed.

I write like I need to breathe.
Desperate words, desperate measures,
If I don't write, the words tumble out anyway.
The poetry builds up in my blood
and I end up saying poetic things
to the cashier at the grocery store.
Bananas are a sad fruit, so desperate for love...
what? ******.

I write and I write,
all at once, or not at all.
I could write five poems at once,
or sit and stare for ages.

Writing for me,
is my escape.
I write to forget,
I write because I need to.

Four AM
And five stitches later
I finally realized the
cold hard truth.
I never want
to see you again.
I can't keep showing
up at the hospital
when you've broken
me yet again.

"I cannot remember the last time I loved the girl in my bed,"
He said to me one day while I was dreaming.
I opened my eyes and looked out the window,
Jumping from one dream to another,
But then, I blinked and looked back at him,
My dreams shattering around me,
For I was his wife, and always the girl in his bed.

I used to be a dreamer,
With light in my eyes
And stars on my tights.
But now there's a watch
around my neck,
Ticking away.
Ticking away the time,
Forever reminding me,
That sadness always lurks,
No matter how grand the dream.

Don't leave me...
please...

I don't want this life.

Don't let me do this.

Don't let this go

Don't do this.

I guess it's too late.
goodbye.

It's one of those days
where stay in bed
and hide under the covers
because the world is
too cold to face today.

It's one of those days
where you hand pick
your play list to be
all the sad songs you own.

It's one of those days
where all you eat is
a cup of tea and a carrot,
because you'll throw up
if you eat anything else.

It's one of those days
where you can't listen
to the silence but
you aren't actually listening.

It's just one of those days.

The sun sets too early.
There's never enough light
to keep the darkness at bay.
Golden warmth against chilling black,
I begged the sun never to leave.
There's never enough light,
and there's even less hope
to win the war
when my source of light
has run away.

Nothing good ever happens there,

The kids go there to smoke,
The drunks go there to fight,
And, well, everyone else avoids it.
Except for kids like me,
Who go there to die,
and never come back.

Every town has that place,
Nothing good ever happens there.
Stay away.

It drips down my face,
Warm and wet.
Red pours from my wounds,
Salty, it slides past my lips
and drips onto the floor.

I would apologize for bleeding on your floor,
**but it is your fault.

I feel your eyes, trained on my back and lower.
Pretending not to notice, I keep a steady pace.
The click of my heels beat with the staccato of my heart.

For once, I want to say
why not?
Instead of always asking
why?
I'm sick of this
perpetual fear.
Just let me say
*why not?

The silence is oppressive.
The quiet weighs heavy in my head.
When all is silent.
The thoughts creep in.
The things you've said,
The things I've done.
It is on the calmest nights,
When I am in the most turmoil.
It is on the calm and quiet evenings
when I remember my worth,
and that is not much.

Her smile never quite reached her eyes
And she ended up looking disgusted with the world,
Rather than happy.

I sat on the swings
and stared at the sea,
dragging my toes in the sand.
Where has life gone?
It seems to have passed me by.
The ocean sways
and life goes on
forever perpetual
by the sea.