the grip I must feel to have the wheel
to truly have it and not let it slip through the sweat and tears

tighter than where the sky meets the grass, tighter than any connection you've ever had

they shake and want to surrender any day now
but everything's so precious

I had to say goodbye to a friend because she was too much like me, too much like the thoughts that could **** me

an illness that mocks me in my sleep,
repeatedly choosing for me

faking a sense of control that only allows me to pretend
I'm not too grown up for this

the cruelties don't go over my head
they swoop and land

cutting me in deeper
drowning me in my own tears

lifting me up and drifting me away

and yet I remain to wander

Did someone steal your youth away
And leave you as a tiny old-timer?
Did someone say painful things to you
And, like a coward, did they run away?
Was there any kind of warning
So you could at least adjust?
Or did they just leave you there
With no hope, no faith, no trust?

Open up your arms you angels!
See me where I languish!
Have you no caring word for me
To raise me above this anguish?

Was there one day pleasant skies
And dreams of a cheerful future
Then the next day you were all alone
With no one there for nurture?
The world becomes a darker place
When do people on which you rely
Make a choice between you and themselves
And leave you to live or die.

Open up your arms you angels!
See me where I languish!
Have you no caring word for me
To raise me above this anguish?

Looking for the face of love
And finding disapproval there,
Where else can a person go,
To learn of love and care?
Will they not find other things
With much less pleasant names;
With the risk the sufferer
Will find themselves to blame?

Open up your arms you angels!
See me where I languish!
Have you no caring word for me
To raise me above this anguish?

I hate lending things out.
Like my heart.
They never return it

Writing love poems to no one,
Is like making cookies for yourself,
Its still enjoyable
Even if you do it alone.

That smile isn't real, is it darling?
How you put a front up to impress those around you
How you long for them to love you.
But I can see right through you.
As your mascara runs, was it worth it?
Was it worth all your time, all your effort, sacrificing your identity to please them?
When all along you just wanted to be accepted
So you left your individuality
And fled your beautiful reality
To blend in, well you've done it
You've become one of them.
But you no longer feel free
Oh, darling, is this what you wanted to be?

Pain is not what we feel
But who we are.

I hope you're okay. I hope you love what you're doing right now. I hope that you always make art. Not the stereotypical art of drawing, painting, sculpting, etc. but the art of drowning yourself in science or mathematics, the art of letting go of negativity, the art of breaking the rules, the art of reaching nirvana, the art of letting yourself get lost in the moment or just about anything that is considered art (if it's not but you love it and it makes you feel good, call it art). I hope that when you do something, you do it for yourself first. I hope that when you write about love you're thinking about yourself. I hope that when someone asks you to list down the things you love, you write your name first. I hope that when you find yourself crying, you look at yourself in the mirror and realize that tears don't suit your face. I hope that you always eat on time and don't forget about drinking water. I hope you read lots and lots of books. I hope you're always thinking about the world and its people and how it's still beautiful despite of the happenings right now. I hope you learn to say "no" to people when you need to and be firm about it. I hope you're happy and contented with your life. I hope that when you're in a dark dark place, you're not afraid to call your mom or your dad or even a friend to tell them what's going on (believe me, you can trust them to understand your place right now and never leave you). I hope that when you see people passing by, you see their story first before their faces. I hope that when you make something beautiful, you learn how to destroy it to make something more beautiful. I hope that every day is the best day of your life. Finally, I hope that you receive the warmest hugs, kisses and love from the people that matter to you and loves you back unconditionally.

F. Scott Fitzgerald said, "For what it's worth: it's never too late to be whoever you want to be. I hope you live a life you're proud of, and if you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start over." So live your life with an open mind and an open heart and when the going gets tough, take a moment to rest but don't ever give up. You can do anything. You're here to do it.

With hopes to see you living life to the fullest,
Sam

If all scars were purple
And all bruises red
And we could pour out
All the pain in our heads

If people were rabbits
And rabbits were dead
And all scars were purple
And all bruises red –

Would people be purple?
Would rabbits be dead?
Is it bruises that **** us,
Or scars to the head?

What is it that tortures us,
Leaves us all writhing?
What makes us stop living
And start just surviving?

What monster pursues us –
What ghastly condition?
The one deep within us;
The sick apparition.

This torturous bubble
From deep in our heart
Wells up, overwhelms us
And tears us apart.

for seven years i believed that i had no right to say
that i had been abused because it wasn't physical,
like my friend who was beat by her drunk father on
a daily basis.

my abuse was only on an emotional, psychological scale
and while sometimes his hand slipped or gripped too tight on me,
i honestly wouldn't count it as abuse.

recently i began reading into this and while it's not
as talked about as physical or ****** abuse it still counts
and it carries over as children grow up from these experiences.

even experiences that i didn't think counted as emotional abuse,
from times when i was far younger than just a teenager.

the abuse i've dealt with hasn't made me any stronger than i was,
it's made me the exact opposite;
instead of being the person i was before, bright and optimistic,
i'm apologizing constantly for things i don't need to and
second guessing myself and others intentions.

constantly i wonder if i'm bothering someone,
am i being too much of myself? am i allowed to speak?
does my opinion matter? is it all right to assert myself?

after being told for three years that i don't matter,
and there is no point of me for existing and that
it's no wonder i don't have any friends,
i'm trying to break myself out of the box i've placed myself in
and it's so **** hard.