If anyone were to ask me,
for some reason,
when was the last time
I was touched by someone
who loves me.
The answer would be simple.

                                      Never.

But if they were to ask
perhaps,
when was the last time
I was touched by someone
with nothing but empty,
primal lust
I would sadly have to admit
                                    
                      ­                 Last week.

Even stranger,
if they were to ask,
when was the last time
that I was left
feeling worthless
and incapable of normalcy.
There would be no answer
because it's
                                       Constant.



But they won't ask.
So I'll tell them anyway.

You're cute
and you know it
tempting
and alluring
under my skin
but I won't give in.
You're no good
no, not for the real me
I'm really not sure
who I was trying to be
just to ease this pain.
But ***
with you-
basically a stranger,
no, that won't do.
You say "friends with benefits".
More like- "benefits"
because we're not friends.
You talk so *****
that I have to scrub myself clean
because that's just not who I am
nor will it ever be.
So, I'm changing my mind.
You'd get what you want
and I'd still be alone
tell me,
what's the benefit in that?

Forgive me for wanting to be loved,
and not just ******.

I want to write a love poem
one tender and sweet
one that would make anyone swoon
But in order to write a love poem
I'd have to be in love
We would have to meet.

I want to write a happy poem.
one that would make you smile
one about the beauty in this world
the birds, the sky, the clouds
but I would have to be happy
I would have to know how.

I need some inspiration
Yeah, I need a new muse.
(I'm taking applications)
I need a healthy obsession
something else to write about
other than this darkness, this depression.

So another night of watching netflix in bed,
another night spent alone.
and I'm not happy
and I'm not in love.
So just another night
writing another sad poem.

Turn myself to stone
to further avoid these feelings
turn my heart cold
to prepare for what's to come
scrape out my insides
make me emptier than I already am
I'm just a hollowed out tool
use me.

I'm selling myself short
giving myself away for free
loneliness knows no price
and if nobody can like me for my thoughts
my personality, my heart
at least they like my body
and how I let them
use me.

It's when all the lights turn off that the demons come out
I'm not talking about the ones under your bed
or the ones in your closet
but the ones lurking in the back of your mind.
All the thoughts you never knew you had
all the insecurities held deep within
come creeping behind you and tap you on your shoulder.
Don't turn around.

It's the quietest hour of the night that's the loudest of all.
All the mistakes you have made
and all the bad habits you thought you could break
scream at you so loud that your eyes sting
begging you to come back to them once again.
Don't turn around.

Face forward.
Inhale. Exhale.
Walk- with one foot in front of the other
Walk right past broken dreams,
words you regret saying- or not saying,
failures, underestimations and doubts
walk right past the people holding you back
the insults, fears, and let downs.
And, most importantly.
Don't turn around.

Karma's a real *****
and I sure am getting mine
but she should just cut me a break
because I think we're about tied
I know I've hurt others
so now others have to hurt me
what goes around comes around
but I think this circle is complete
I'm sure she's had some fun at my expense
Yeah, torturing me must be so much fun
but please, I surrender, just help me out
I'd really like to finally meet "the one".
Karma, I am willing to change my ways
if only you will change yours too.
because the last thing my heart needs
is another bruise.

I was 12
when my older brother told me
that my teeth looked like
those of a rabid dog
That was the first time
I really took a look in the mirror
and felt ugly.

I was 13
when I first dragged a blade
across my skin
trying to drain the ugliness
straight from my veins.
That was the first time
that I felt in control.

I was 14
when a friend told my teacher what she saw
and I came home to my parents
sitting in the living room waiting
for me to show them.
That was the first time
that I felt betrayed.

I was 15
when I was forced to see a therapist
who stared at me with knowing eyes
waiting for me to spill
something other than my own blood.
That was the first time
that I realized how easy it is to lie.

I was 16
when I wanted to end my life
I said a few goodbyes
to some people at school
and nobody tried to stop me.
That was the first time
that I felt helpless.

I was 18
when a friend killed himself
making me realize what I didn't
have the guts to do
was the best thing I've never done.
That was the first time
I realized I wanted to live.

Now I'm 20
finally having the courage to write
what I've been waiting to for years.
No longer ashamed of my past
because it's made me who I am.
This is the first time
that I felt brave.