his name i won't say to you
but that doesnt mean
his name would be forgotten by few.

the way we danced
the way we smiled
the way he glanced
at no one else but me.

remember when i said
my last kiss was the first?
excuse me, but i secretly misled
you to believe something else.

yes, 8th grade kisses came first,
but the ones that followed
were kisses that were cursed.

i suppressed the memory so well
that i almost forgot about it
until you led me back to that hell.

now believe me that this is true
dr. camille says its long overdue
to confront this suppressed memory
and face the fact
the thing that made me crack.

so break out the tisses
and prepare to read about my scarring issues.

we danced
and i felt entranced
your smile so uplifting and exciting
i couldnt hold back laughter that i was fighting.

we kissed,
and i remember it feeling like sparks.
as of now, i can't believe i made such remarks.
the more sadness i tried to erase

weaving up the stairs
i thought that nothing in this world
could ever compare.

a room that was open and bare,
i honestly could swear,
that my head was shrieking 'no'
but your smile kept on shining 'hello'

i'd rather not go into detail
of what emotions prevailed
that night,
but i would like to share
what felt wrong, and what felt right.

it felt wrong that he pushed for it.
it felt right that i said i'd rather quit
it felt wrong that he ignored my pleas.
it felt right that i was trying to shut my knees.
it felt wrong that he roughly tried to open them.
it felt right i would persistently condemn him

sooner than i thought, sooner than i would expect,
sooner than i would imagine,
i was a potential victim of ****
i knew i had to escape.
his threats and shouts and cursing and strength
could have done more damage considering his height and length.

tears and fear.
fears and tears.
screaming and shouting.
shouting and screaming.

finally did oliver and nate
use my screaming as bait
and bust down the door.
as they led me outside,
i heard his voice shout behind me, "you * *****."

that night
made my face and hands and blood
turn white,
especially when i had to remember the pain
and all of the things that were incredibly inhumane.

not until two days ago,
did i summon the will
to write this truth, although
i couldnt stop crying and hiding and feeling chills
racing up and down my spine.
dr. camille said that therapy would reassign
my past memories and horror and malign
but never again would innocence,
could i honestly say, would be mine.

dont believe me?
dont believe that this memory of my life is trye?
well ***** you.
but in all honesty,
it really happened.
and i do all that i can
to forget about where parts of my horror began

still dont believe it was real?
well, heres the deal.
why dont you ask
for yourself
what really went on.

the other patients will cry
when asked to reply
about my mishap.

or maybe dr. camille or thatcher or hammond
each will make you see
what i said occurred
actually happened to me.

if their professional words
dont fall into your defenses,
why not go to the man himself.
you standing on the offenses,
with him full of pretenses
acting like he was the best there ever was.
but let me caution you,
that's all he ever does.

lure in girls, like me.
lead them in and before i know it,
i'm struggling to flee.

so if you dont want to understand
theres nothing else i can do
to help you expand
your minimized thoughts and mind.
but beware, when you fall to traps like his,
your soul will be so scattered, you won't find.

to those who believe,
i'm thankful,
but i'll never be able to relieve
the memories that have been scorched into my head.
these moments, among others,
are the reasons i'd rather be dead.

the little girl just
could not sleep
because her thoughts
were way too deep
her mind had gone out
for a stroll and fallen
down the rabbit hole. the end.
oh im sorry, you're too late.
the rabbit is gone,
and you're still here.
you are lost,
you are scared,
you are alone.
the rabbit is gone
and so is your mind.
the flowers,
the people,
the animals,
your mind,
theyre playing tricks on you
my dear
this is the wrong rabbit hole.
this will not take you to wonderland.
the rabbit hole will only lead you to
an existence of hell & chaos,
with an on going battle that takes place
in your head.
my dear, you are not in wonderland,
you are in reality.

she was young
she was innocent
she had the world on her shoulders
she saw the world slip right before her
as she fell farther &farther; down
she fell downwards, with nothing to stop her from falling.
so she kept on falling
and falling
and falling
until she could fall no more
and hit the bottom.
she was never found or heard of again.
because poor alice fell down the rabbit hole.
the rabbit hole had no ledges
to catch herself on
so she fell
and fell
and fell
to her death.

i'll never let you see
what you've done to me
i'll never let you know
where i'm planning to go.
except after i'm gone
you'll all be too late
to say if i could just have wait.
wait for what?
for me to slice another cut?
then you to run, to say what i have done.
for you to feel like you have won.
won the battles between me and my life.
with you not even involved.
but there i go again.
slaying against my wrist with the knife.
and sitting there
watch as i tear
tear off the plastic.
upcap the lid.
discover whats been hid.
a capsule of blue.
multiple & brand new.
taste the bottle on my lips.
not even the razor nips
could substitute what i will soon endure.
a pain free path for sure.
but the only way to get there?
step in the puddle of blood.
there's no lack of it, it's a flood.
a flood of my own
nothing i have ever shown.
as the ultimate sacrifice, i just want to say,
maybe there would have been one day.
when someone would have finally said
"the things inside your head
are driving you insane
and it's leading you to a world of pain.
take my hand, follow my lead.
some place to where you will not need
the use or the crave for blades or pills.
because my love & caring will end your desire to ****."
but that is all a tale.
it is all in my head.
that someone will have said,
"i will save you"
and now its too late.
because i will reach for my razor as my evening date.
and later, lose my innocence deep into the dark as it is late.
my innocence taken by the one and only
multiple swallowed capsules.
as if to say one last time, "if i wasn't so lonely."
then everyone wouldn't say "why?"
and i didnt have to write 'goodbye'.

of course i never forgot
i can never forget.
how could anyone not remember the horror i felt.
for nights on end,
i would lie awake,
wondering if it was his fault
or mine
some nights,
i can hear the quiet whispers,
whispering in my ear.
saying that the blame has my name.
written all over.
sometimes i dont believe it.
but sometimes i do.
sometimes i try to block it out,
and when i do,
i cant hear the whispers anymore.
but then someone will trigger the emotions
off within me.
by touching me,
by hurting me,
by forcing me to do things i never wanted to do.
and thats when the whispers are no longer whispers
but merely shouts and screams and rage filled shrieks.
and all i can do,
is listen to the voices.
say over and over again.
"the blame has your name
written all over."

beating, slapping, punching, crying
fight for your life.
hurting, screaming, breaking, trying.
fight for you life.

hold tightly,
grip the knife.
hold it against your skin
press down
slice it very thin

once, twice?
that doesn't pay the price.
three, four?
theres still room for more.

five, ***, seven.
don't stop till you see heaven.
eight, nine?
can you say you feel fine?
what about ten?
dont stop now my dear.
try one more & see how you feel then.
eleven, eleven is perfect, eleven.
all of those slashes
are what you brought to heaven.

eleven.

her heart stopped that wednesday morning.
and that was the only time
people every told her
they loved her,
and missed her,
and needed her.
and maybe if they would have told her that
when she was alive and needed it
then she would still be here.