At 5, her smile was bright,
Which soon burned out like a fading light.
Made some friends, lost some more,
Tried being happy with a heart so sore.

At 13, she caked her face,
To fit in a world which was a maze,
Was called a ***** for trying hard,
Pierced her heart like a game of dart.

At 17, she found a love,
Thought she found a pure white dove.
Love was lust and shattered her,
He left her like a toy mere.

At 21, everyday she cried,
She ain't living, she just survived.
Wore a white gown, took a piece of blade,
Soon the white gown whole turned to red.

What is my skin for?
To cover up my thoughts so sore?
Thoughts that fuel me like gasoline,
As a candy does to a kid on Halloween

My thoughts are far beyond this world,
But suppressed by the hearts so cold,
People say dream big and shoot for stars!!
But for 18 years they tell us what to say bout isobars

Thoughts are never given freedom to be expressed,
All this world wants is people who can impress,
My thoughts if revealed would drown you all,
And hitting the ground you all will fall.

Why do my thoughts only haunt me at night?
Why do they always wanna stay out of sight?
Maybe because that's what we are being taught,
Bitter thoughts should never be caught.

Let me just scream my thoughts,
A day like this is all i sought,
So don't expect people to stay quiet all the time,
Because with that we are just not fine.

Let my thoughts burn your soul,
Leave a scar, one so gold,
Let me leave a mark on the world,
In this world, let me make a swirl!!

thoughts, thoughts
running through my head

thoughts, thoughts
as i lay in bed

thoughts, thoughts
at 12 AM

thoughts, thoughts
at 4 AM

thoughts, thoughts
won't go away

because thoughts, thoughts
are here to stay

How sad it is to know that “Goodbye”
slips from my lips easier than any other
word in the dictionary.
How terrible it is to know that
a seven letter word,
etched with pain,
can slip so effortlessly through
raspberry colored lips.
They’ll ask me how I’m doing.
I’ll say “I’m surviving”.
But, they won’t understand that
“Goodbye” is carved into my
bones like the initials of lovers
on tree barks.
They will not understand
that the reason “Goodbye”
slips so easily from my lips
is because of a tainted childhood
that I’ve tried so hard to forget.
Maybe, just maybe, if I say it enough
it will lose all of its meaning.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
No.
Every goodbye pulls air out of my lungs
and forces a fist into my stomach.
Fire ignites in my chest and the bags
under my eyes darken.
It takes the color out of my face as if it was
never there.
While he sleeps perfectly still across town,
I will toss and turn.
Nightmares for every dream, darker bags
for every night I lay awake thinking
about the last “goodbye” to escape my
cracked lips.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
He is gone.

The typical 2 a.m. poem is messy
because middle of the night thoughts have no structure

The typical 2 a.m. poem is deep
because darkness is perfect for existentialism

The typical 2 a.m. poem is raw
because it's hard to edit when you're tired

This 2 a.m. poem is just another 2 a.m. poem
desperately trying to be unique

adopt a demon tonight
and if you're a writer
she'll help you become a
great one even
It is worth exposing yourself
to her
You won't call her a demon,
of course. That term is offensive
You'll refer to her as The Muse,
your muse
and she will visit you when the
time is right
and the time will be right
when you start doing your thing
You'll see.

People like you die young, she said
You don't drink, don't
do drugs, eat healthy, rarely
go out, rarely meet new girls

But you keep on writing, boy, you
keep on writing
and that's enough to outweigh
all the above

You'll see