Previous commemorative
                          memorials of positivity
     drown in radioactive slime.
    
   Disperse chi like flooding water
                              Contaminated, laminated with oily tears.

*"How is pain controlled?

How do you remember me?
Am I the girl that cried on your shoulder?
Or the child that screamed at you because
You'd insulted me?

Do you think I am aware of what I've done?

I know I've made mistakes in my years.
Do you think I'm that ignorant?

I wonder because you're one of them.

I am being watched from every angle.
I don't know what to do and I am scared.
I want to be left alone.
Not helpless and afraid, no,
Just step back!
I don't need to go, I don't want to go,
Stop reading the words I write specifically to escape from
The world you brought me into!

Just stop....

Lately, I haven't been sure.

I like big bills and I can not lie.
No other hunter can deny,
When a duck waddles in with an itty bitty bill
And feathers in your face
You're on QUACK!
I gotta shoot him quick
But I noticed that duck was stuffed,
Even the tags it's wearin.
I'm hooked an I can't stop starin.
Oh, ducky, I gotta go shoot ya,
And take your picture.
The rangers try to warn me
But that bill you got makes
Me so hungry!

I like big bills and I can not lie.
No other hunter can deny,
When a duck waddles in with an itty bitty bill
And feathers in your face
You're on QUACK!

I'm sorry for being an idiot. I'm sorry for being a *****. I'm sorry for walking away when I am angry.  I'm sorry for being me. I'm sorry for being moody. I'm sorry for not shutting up. I'm sorry for feeling the need to talk to you. I'm sorry for procrastinating. I'm sorry for not making you as happy as I want you to be. I'm sorry for not saying the right thing. I'm sorry for being me. I'm sorry for wearing heels. I'm sorry for wearing jeans. I'm sorry for being me. I'm sorry I. Sorry I'm sorry for doing what ever I have done. Im Sorry for being me.

Chill, wind on tears freeze over
Glassy eyes that can not see the disgusted expression
You painted on that child's face at the carnival.
He saw the petting zoo. Animalistic, blood and gore,
They are not friendly. Not like us, the ones who get it.
Get the fact that life goes on,
Even if you don't, if I don't. The corroded battery still works, powering
What was dead just a few minutes ago. Replace it, unscrew the panel
On my leg, I am a machine. Gears grinding, steam escapes
And I scream. I am not a sculpture. I am a real boy!
I hate that children's story. The real Pinocchio kills the maker.
I can not trust who made me, only those who help me.

It helps to be cold. Thin clothing and nothing underneath,
Help me escape, love. I need to leave this place and let the wind carry me, speak to me, Whisper the words I need to hear and
I will give you a river to swim in. Pull the silver threads that connect my heart to yours.
Make me feel again. Thaw my eyes and let me gaze into yours, see you in a way no one else
Is allowed to. And then just hold me.
All I ask is to plant my feet on the ground and run, scream,
But be strong. I can't. I know I can't be that creature running free because
I am caged. And my ice will never melt.

Not completely.

I've gotten over it.
It has all been said and done.

I tied a bandanna tightly around my neck.
I tried to **** myself.
My phone buzzed.
I reached.
The knots untied themselves.
And now, I am still here.

I've forgotten, or at least have gotten over it.
Now, it's everyone else's turn.

It isn't real sugar, honey. No one tells the truth anymore;
That was an old fad. Silly people use organic things, tell the truth, pretend to be real.
I can not enjoy the things I once did, but I lie and say I do.
Cherry red and blond like a *****. I am a liar, just like her
A "she-player" will cheat. I just can't think and put on a face that everyone knows.
No one knows the real story, the biography I have yet to write, but
Somehow they know the me that I don't know.
The me who's hands shake and hair used to be short enough to spike.
But I will grow it out. I don't see he reason to keep it
The way it is. Or maybe I will do half and half.
With my long portion hanging over my shoulder and other shaved by my ear;
Sip my coffee and write more poems that won't go far at all.
While others write about their love an prayers I write about being lost. About being real.
About being the only one I hope he will ever love. Ever touch the way he does.
In the dark or in the light, either way it is magic and
The shadows are attempted to that energy. They feed.
Explicit, I know, they like it, dessert for them.
But there are times I would rather just bask in the moment, hear their
Dead and separated stomachs growl, waiting for moans and
Crashing waves to wash up on their feet.
Dark, I know, but it is the way it is.
Hot, I know, and that is how I like it.
But I just ignore them. You are far more important in the experiments I want to conduct.
Sweet and salty: sweat rolling down your neck has never been sexier.
And I wonder... Can you be so excited that it hurts?
See I am not innocent. I have ideas that you will never imagine. But if you do?
I am always hungry for a sugary daydream. How wicked and filthy can you be?

I wonder. Can you feed me? I crave this
Nonstop.

Overcome it.
Tell it who is boss and whip it into shape.
I am not afraid anymore. I took control.


Let out your emotions, you fears.
Verbalize your confusion.
I did, an I am better.
Tell it to ******* and figure out how to fix itself.
Turn it into something light.
Bright.
Lovely.

Your demons don't possess you anymore, lover.
Because, in a way,
You are a demon yourself.

We all are.

We possess ourselves.

Wishes.
Ways to project

The butterflies

And the carnal
Instinct.

A faerie dances,

Shackles lock
And *******
Occurs; a mental

State; reached
Toward any
Outcome.

Outburst of

(Final)

Findings: Salved mystery.

Do I?
Do I not?
Do I?
Do I not?
Do I?
I won't......

Not yet.

I read your message and I felt your sorrow. I shed
Tears for you at that table, in front of everyone.
It is a tragedy that someone you love is gone, but
I promise, we can help you get through it. Your friends.
Your surrogate family.
I am saddened. I mourn for you as we'll as the rest of us.
I am sorry.

This is what I will become.
I will be a forgotten soul,
Just a withered girl, dumb
And without any control.

No way to ever see the truth
And an absolutely brainwashed
Society. Leaking lies, her mouth
Wanting desperately to crash.

The windows to her soul
Are shut and locked,
Afraid after the raid and the ****
Of her happiness.
She has lost all control,
Her mental gun cocked
And loaded, mouth agape
And careless about the future mess.



Fear instilled in ones heart can never be defeated, only conquered.

Black hole, please, absorb this!
This horrible image,
This regrettable instance In which
I had lost myself to
Blindness.

Lover, Force me to look at you
And nit into the past that is
A marble statue with claws and teeth
That protrude like swords.
Tell me I can let go
Of the rotted flower petals
Covered in mold and betrayal,
They said they would stay
Beautiful!
Tell me I can rinse the slime
Of false hope from my body
And my intimacies so that
I may be pure for you.

Quicksand, drop this putrid locket
Into your depths and clog the clasp
So that no one will ever see the inside.
Obey Me!
Take my sacrifice, my past and
Everything
Corroded! Tell me
That I am able to forget
And be forgotten!

Maybe, for once, I want someone to tell me that they wont leave me alone.
Maybe, for once, I want a truthful response to my worries instead of a lie or silence.
Maybe, for once, I would like a bit of sense in a confusing circumstance.
Maybe, for once, I don't want to be treating like the helpless weakling that people believe me to be because suicide is on my mind at all times. I may be miserable, but I am not giving up, no matter what ******* people throw at me.
Maybe, for once, I want to be a ******* human being, not a glass figurine with diamond tears.

For once, can I stay the way
You want me to be? For once
I want to be happy and lovely.
I want to stay with him and
Blend the colors of my skin
Like oil pastels
So my lighter scars won't show through.

For once... Just once,
I want to be trusted.
Let free to make my own decisions
Without letting down the people I love.

I want to be free of confusion and fear,
the voices in my head they attempt to sway
My every step
I don't want to go down that path!

For once I just want peace. Stillness
Silence, except for a whisper from
The one I will always love.
For once, I want to allow him to
Wear his suit of armour and
Save me from my dragons.
Battle the witch that cursed me
And set me free from the ugly skin in bear.
Kiss me and wake me up from this nightmare.

For once I need to accept the things
I've already accepted in the past.
I need to let go of the things
Clouding my judgement, urges
That I can not control.

For once, can I just stay dead?

In corny cartoons,
And cheesy adventure movies,
The hero always falls from a cliff.
A tree root always protrudes and saves them.

Love, you are my hero. The strongest man
I have ever known.
But tonight, you fell. I was worried when you
First looked at me that way
And came closer. And you fell.

I want to stop you, mid freefall.
I want to save you like you saved me.
Let me be the tree root that you grasp
And hang onto for dear life.

Let me be the hero for once.

Lace and love,
                  The caress of a lover
         And the smell of roses.

                      Drapes of a deep blue shade
                                               Keep the world away.

"A touch and a sigh, simply, explain how much you miss me."

                                 I tell him so.
      Sheets askew and
                                       Tears of an unwidowed.

         "Kiss me.

Tell me that I am okay,
                   That you are okay.

       That you love me."

                                    Please.

          "I am scared and lost;
    Love me
                              Hold me

Make me feel safe!"

             Please.

                                   "Be gentle."

I love him. I will until the end of time. I feel his hand in mine.... His fingers like ghostly kisses against my palm. He read it once. He told me I would have three children, all with my eyes. Then he whispered under his breath that they wouldn't be his.
I told him they would be, but he only hummed in disagreement. He stayed silent about it for years.

Yesterday, he held my hand just like he is right now. His fingers lingered on the calloused skin for a moment. He looked surprised, as if he recognized the feeling. I told him I loved him. I said it all of the time and I knew he felt the same, but this time he didn't say it back. He walked away.
I woke up this morning to three missed calls: one from his mother, one from the hospital, and one from our mutual best friend. I recognized what those three calls meant. I climbed out of bed and walked to the balcony outside of my three story apartment. I was about to let my tears escape when I felt his hand in mine. I suddenly realized why those three children would never be his. His fingers were ghostly as he traced the lines of my palm.

Falling back, retreating.
I am not a good soldier.

I am a broken soul, and it shows.
But, even so, someone told me that I
Was stronger than I thought I was.

All I could ask myself was,

*"Then why did I do it?"

I am treated like a queen, the one woman in the world.
Why do you?
I am full of faults, mistakes, and I am a *****.
I don't deserve you. I don't.
I've felt that way for a long time. You are
Perfect.
Why did you choose someone like me?

I carry a bright love in my pocket,
On a chain around my neck,
In my own heart
Because love is intertwined.

Fighting against these stupid currents once again.
The change and peace I long for is impossibly far,
Straight off the horizon and
Two light years away.
In that randomly created and murdered star, I see
A life I know I can't have yet:
A daughter, a lover, and a smile.
Now, though... Now I feel swarmed by thousands of bees,
Each thought running through my head is a sting that welts on my skin.
I try to heal, but the water rushing at my legs as I stand in the river
Turns to acid
And erodes my bones. I am held up by the memory of the
Perfect body I once had.
The curve and color washing off for the first time in years.

Well, now that my life has turned from better, to worse, to the most amazing time I have ever had, I'd like to say a few things.

First off, I have nothing to say.
Second, I am happy. Don't ruin my mood.

I have one last request. **** me.
Help me run away. Anything.
I sit here in agonizing pain as
I press my frozen fingertips
Into my burning eyes,
Trying,
Fighting,
Murdering every tear that threatens to escape.
I feel chilled across every expanse of my skin and
I wait for the end that I have wanted for so long.

I looked into the eyes of a simple sketch
And I saw the lines that I've followed and crossed.
The hand I've held and purposely missed
Is the one I've repeatedly loved and lost.

I'll hold out my hand for you and I can only
Pray that your graphite hand
Might someday take it.

I come here to be happy,
To find my place
And teach myself how to be
A true writer.

To me it seems
I try.
I try to speak,
Show myself,
Do what I am supposed to do here.
I am told to be myself,
There is no blending in.
And yet, it seems I have to.

No one cares. I cry
And they stare and walk past.
I had more support and reassurance
In the place where I was bullied and tormented
Daily.

And here,
Daily,
I am alone.
Cliques formed and I was, once again,
And outcast.

I want to find my smile in you,
But I wonder if I will be able to.
We are both in so much pain
And it seems like you avoid our
Problems. Even though we need
To fix what has been broken.
Patch what has been leaked.
And heal what has been hurt.

I am alone.

No time, no patience,
But all the time and patience to feel like I do.

I am a *****.

No shame, no regrets.
But all of the shame and regret comes from the memories and worry.

I am a *****.

No cooperation, no final word.
But the cooperation of my final words leave me isolated.

Who else am I?

A creature that I live with every day
Creates something that I can not escape from.
Something that follows me and rapes me of my happiness,
Something that recreates the worst parts of my life
And forces me to watch, paralyzed in my own bed.

The Creature has dyed red hair, brown eyes.
The creature weighs 136.2 lbs and continues to gain more.
This creature is 5'8" tall.

This creature shares the same name.
The same putrid name as the girl who
Fell in love with someone who saved her life,
But had to convince herself to keep loving him
In order to endure the thing he said to her.
The same ugly name as the girl who fell in love with
Someone else, but ignored him because of her guilt
And then kissed him only five days after
The one who saved her dumped her on her 16th birthday.
The same name as the girl who forced herself to feel
Numb because everyone who surrounds her
Tells her not to feel bad because they have or had it worse.

The creature screams, trying to make her happy, trying to
Please her, make her leave.
SHE REFUSES. Every day, she lays down and can't get up because
Nothing is worth it. The creature ignores her pull.
She leaves bruises with her fingers,
But the creature is used to the pain.

I have a blog now for people with anything on their mind. If you are one of those who do not know who to go to or what to do, message me here or visit my blog and leave a comment in my story post. Let someone know what is going on and possibly find others as well.

http://i-am-okay-now.blogspot.com/

It was just made a few days ago, so I am the only one that has done anything so far, but if word is spread, I will do my best to help in any way I can.

The beat, beat, beat of your heart reminds me
Of the thunder. I love it so, it lulls me to sleep
Like the drums in a tribal dance. The sweet beat
Shaking my head, ringing in my ears and
Telling me a sweet bed time story of
Men playing cards and getting drunk.
It's strange that you remind me of my father, but
You do. You are not drunken and borderline abusive
And he isn't either, at least, not anymore.
But you match me like no one else ever will.
I can hear a poem in you, like a sweet song that sends
Shivers through my limbs. A song that makes me
Want you like I never have before.
Physically, mentally, completely.

What I have done,
What I wish I didn't do and could erase,
Was telling someone in the first place.
I hate what this has become.
That poem that let almost everything out
Was my mistake in a typewriter document.

And the tears that have fallen since then are monuments
Of my pain and doubt.

I want a life where I have what I need.
I want to get away from all of the **** that had been happening.
I want to leave this place and go to the school I want.
I want to start my life.
I want to sell my work and know people enjoy it.
I want to be able to make people happy, not worry.
I want to be able to tell my ***** of a mother to *******.
I want to run.
I want to hide
From everything that makes me sad.
I want to look forward to our six month anniversary, and not worry about what today is.
I want to be happy, and I want you to not have to take care of me.

I want to grow old with you,
I want to be the minority you seem to mention a lot.
I want to love you forever, and have you love me back.
I want to have silly fights about if our kids will be able to play video games.


I never want to feel like this again.

I need someone,
Preferably you,
To sleep next to me.
Pull my body tight against you and whisper against my spine.
Snake your arm around my waist
And tickle my hips to wake me in the morning.
Kiss me softly and ask to lay there again.

Please, love...
Just five more minutes.

If it was known before that I have done what I have done,
I still would not be here. Any sooner, I would be gone, and later and I would have fallen apart more than I am now.
Please just leave me be.
I don't want to leave, but I want to go.
And it is all your fault.

I hate myself. I hate my mind. I hate my body. I hate the way I speak. I hate my emotions. I hate my physical feelings. I hate my life. I hate my writing. I hate my thoughts. I hate the disjointed voices. I hate the way I walk. I hate the way I move. I hate the wayi eat, if I do at all. I hate the things I read. I hate the taste of my own blood. I hate my cheeks. I hate my teeth. I hate my torn up fingers. I hate my scars. I hate my bruises. I hate my hair. I hate my eyes. I hate my smile. I hate my lips. I hate my nose. I hate my diseases. I hate my depression. I hate my suicide. I hate my ADHD. I hate my anxiety. I hate my rumored schizophrenia. I hate my memories. I hate that people like me. I hate that people love me. I hate that people hate me. I hate being alone, but I hate being social. I hate the things I draw. I hate the things I talk about. I hate the treatment I go to. I hate how I try to help. I hate the things I learn. I hate my pain. I hate my blindness. I hate my voice. I hate my hearing. I hate the bracelet that pinches me. I hate the nise it makes. I hate the way the metal smells. I hate the bile in my throat when I feel guilty or scared. I hate the way I bite the inside of my mouth to bake myself bleed. I hate when I scratch and don't remember. I hate the way I shake when I cry. I hate being comforted. I hate when people talk to me. I hate wanting to go on even though I can't. I hate wanting to end this. End it all.

et stellæ de cælo, quam te amo.

Quicker than I thought, but
I feel fine. Ready to move on.
I knew I was holding on, and realizing
That has made me able to think.
Cheesy movies and music has helped,
But writing has been better.
And one person has been there
So much within the past few months
That I know I am well cared for.
And now it will be time for me to be
A recorded message, waiting for the time
To say goodbye to the past and
Hello to a new life and great memories that
Caused experience and a new friend.

Thank you for your time.
I had fun and hope that we
Both can benefit. Its over and done,
But we can start over as something new.
And maybe e can laugh together again as
Something simpler than what we were.
I love you as a friend now. I've learned that.

nowayback-onewayforeward

It seems like we are slipping. I don't know why, but I feel like I have to hold on tighter.
It is okay if you want to leave, if I am suffocating you,
If I offend you.
But if there is no reason, please tell me how to make it better, I am worried.
So much has happened.
I've lost my mother to insanity and too much worry.
And maybe I am being lost, too.
Tell me if I am. I want to be found.
I want to be saved.
I am sorry that I am scared. I just worry sometimes. I have been diagnosed with multiple things by few doctors, therapists. Suicidal depression, OCD, anxiety, paranoia (not severe).
If it bothers you, I can find a way to change back to who I was.
I don't know if I like my new self, I know I've changed a lot.
I am terrified.

It's been hard to live.
It really has. And my entire life has been sad.
Crying myself to sleep. Scratching my skin open with
My fingernails in the middle of class.
And having green ink poisoning. Trying to **** myself
Slowly.
It's not working. Then you came. All of you, but especially you.
I never knew what happy was. But you gave me a peek.
One or two words out of a novel.
And there is no cure. You can't buy the book with the loose change in your pocket.
You can't steal the magic beans from the man who already planted them.
They grew in my mind, a monster. I can't cut them down.
Or defeat the giant that growls in my ear that he will **** me.

I am not strong enough.
I never was.
Because the beanstalk blocked the sun and the moon.
And I never knew what happy was.

Abuse beats me.
No, its not really a person. I haven't
Seen the shape of a fist purpled on my cheek in a while.
But Abuse beats me.
Its as if my mind is a dead horse,
It has been mentioned and disregarded and degraded.
When I exclaim again why I am going insane,
I am pushed and tripped,
Crammed into a locker my shoulders cant fit in.

My cheeks cant hold up my lips.  
They have lost their drive unless you string them up like puppets.
That's all a smile is. Hiding from hardships from behind my teeth
Like lies that desperately want to be told.
But no matter how many truths I tell,
They are dismissed as excuses.
What if I did see the beauty in things and
Know what it was like to inflict pain inside myself?
What if I did fight against the one monster we all fear, but
Revived it when I thought I had given up again?

We are not pens, ourselves, red ink is not inside of us.
But we do have sensitive blood that is discolored, same as that utensil.
Difference is: it poisons us, gives us rashes and thoughts that we are not worthy to have. It wrecks our minds with ancient tools that were once unaccepted. Silly poppies can not
Ruin us like that. I know what can.
The things that worry us, teenagers and babies, parents and pedophiles;
Cease your worries. I pity you, teens.
"It is fun, it is fun." I know I know. But is it worth the risk?
Cease your worries parents. You don't need to stalk your own children.
They learn from their mistakes. They cry for a while and then get stronger.
Like I did, why I kept my mouth shut for so long,
I was better. Until you began to read. I couldn't go to you specifically for that reason,
Tightening your hold on me, mother. I am already a prisoner in my own mind.
I don't need another warden.
A century long breakthrough gave me something,an understanding that not all children accept
Their parents. I don't feel at home there.
It is not one. Just a house that I stay in, people I live with. They are family, by blood only.
****** ink: my savior. My hero, love, is you. You inspired me to digitalize, write with graphite.
But I am still contaminated, mind wandering,

History repeating, sounds piercing, a test is too much when I did not study.
Help me. The trials this has put me through are unfair. Give me my pen to sign a contract, but I
Poison myself instead. Only okay after after a needle enters my streams and takes it out.
A mechanical vampire, I prefer you to bit me instead of metal fangs.
And now I dream.
.
.
.
.
.

Or maybe I am not. We have lived as such long enough. But, still,
Write about it. Tell me how you feel. But be careful not to poison yourself.

I have experience with that. The pen has a hidden blade. It cuts you with every word you
Lay in front of you. May I be a word? Scratch my love into your skin?
I will not intoxicate you as it would. I will give you something else entirely.

But my dream ends. Reality steps on me and takes my breath from me, I am suffocating in this Hellhole. Give me a firehouse so I can put it out and drink away my parched lips.
They need to be soft so I can speak, but first... I need to
Sew my lips shut. If they are dry, they will rip and open. We don't want that.
Keep them shut, don't tear open and bleed; you would give ink poison to
Mockingbirds if you do. They mock me, copy me. They tell me they are jealous.

But why? They don't know they've been poisoned.
It is a cycle. Everyone will die of it in the end.