"Are you okay?"
"What's wrong?"
"Why are you so sad?"

Bad thoughts hurtling through my head.
Do I tell them that last night I wanted to die,
Or do I tell them that I'm just doing fine.

I go with the simple white lie, *"Yeah, I'm just tired."
You believed it alright, said it's just seasonal depression.
You said that I'll be fine in no time.
But if you took the time to look up and peer into my eyes,
you would see the cry for help and the ache inside.
I'm too proud to ask for help yet I'm too afraid,
that you'll look at me as a broken piece that no longer fits in this game.

If I went to a doctor, they might tell me I'm vitamin D deprived,
because the stale air and fluorescent lights will wash you out
and cause you to isolate and want to die inside.
If I went to a doctor, they might tell you I'm depressed,
put me on a bunch of pills so all these thoughts can be oppressed.
If I went to a doctor, they might tell you I'm insane,
lock me up and put me away,
to think about me another day.

So, I guess here's another white lie
"I'm not sad, I'm doing just fine."

*-c.a.

How am I supposed to work on my posture when the bag on my back that contains my future is 15 pounds too much and is weighing me down.
my bag is filled with all the things I need to succeed, mostly with books and pencils but hardly any mental stability
How am I supposed to keep my head held high when they tell me to keep my nose down and my chin up, my eyes open and my mind shut.
I can't keep my head up high because that's rude and because I'm supposed to yield to other people's opinions as if they were true
How am I supposed to be strong when the strong get shut down and the weak is admired; strong is intimidating and weak is desired.
my body aches from the lack of food because being too big is too bad and being too small is always too good
Pale is beautiful and fair but tan, calloused hands are deemed ugly and bad.
my skin is pale because I never leave the house, school ***** and people stare too much;
my hands are calloused from all this writing because apparently expressing thoughts on paper is considered a type of knowledge

*-c.a.

I think I saw you in my dreams last night.
When I fell asleep without the haunting of my cell light.
Waiting for you to text me or give me a call,
I fell asleep with no thought of you at all.
So imagine my surprise when you stroll up and give me a kiss,
under the mistletoe surrounded by the white snow's mist.
A Christmas dream enveloped in bliss.
I miss you more than you could wish.

*-c.a.

When I was 13,
I went up to my mother and told her that I wasn't beautiful because
my eyes were too close together
and that my gut hung lower
and my teeth went out farther.
my hair was too coarse
and my appetite was too large,
my skin was too dark
and my nose was too wide.

When I was 13,
I told my mother that beautiful came in only one size
and one size only
and I happened to be 3 sizes too large.
See I thought that all because I saw it to be true.
Oh how I wished to be that girl in the magazines because even the girl in the magazine wanted to be her.
Oh how I wished on every birthday and new years eve to lose weight and to be pretty.
I struggled so long with this issue of mine.
So long that it became a constant companion by my side.
See I longed for that day when everything would be alright.
For that day when I could look in the mirror and think I looked fine.
For the heavens to open up and the stars align,
crying out the one phrase that would change my mind;
you are beautiful, no matter what size.
See the heavens never opened up and the stars stayed the same
but all I can say is that my mindset changed.
Beautiful comes in many sizes, from extra small to triple extra large.

*-c.a.