Heard what happen
They say it couldve been
Anyone
But it had to be you
Dont worry
I'm not mad
Not even dissapointed anymore
I've learned to accept the enevitable
Its much easier that way
Science has helped me with this
They call it
The law of inertia
Its an objects resistance
To change its state of motion
Unless
An external force is acted upon it
No wonder than that you kept leaving bruises on me
The older we got
Except sometimes they werent always
Physical
And sometimes
They didnt always heal right


I used to think
That whatever happened in the past
Were just accidents
Something that wasnt ment to happen
But it did
Right there was an accident
That maybe
Maybe our world ran out of external forces
To stop me
From losing my security
And my freedom

A lot like that night
When the knock on your
Car window wasnt for spare change
On hand
Instead
They asked for your hands
Behind your back
For a minute
And a half
But that half never came
Guess you couldnt do that math
With all that smoke stuck in your
Single minded brain
Your friends
Werent gonna bail you out
This time
No smooth talking
Clever lying
Was gonna get you out
Of the cold steel grip of these metal bars
Holding you down to where you
Seemed to belong
But you called
Called the next afternoon
Another wave of Im sorrys
And I forgives yous
But this time was different
it wasnt the sound of grown
Men crying
But somehow
I knew you were broken

My brother
You lived your life feeling like the sibling
That was always the failure
But Im here to tell you
The appel doesnt fall far from the tree
Because there were so many times
I couldve helped you
So many times i couldve hugged you
So many times i couldve heard
All your problems
And maybe even thanked you

Because its not just called a mistake
When youre doing something thats wrong
Sometimes
Its not doing whats right

So if any here should say sorry
Dont think youre the only one




Because inertia
In latin
Means lack of art

Or the act of
Unskillful hands staying idle far too long
To be called
Artists block
And
Im sorry brother
But i think Ive
Lost the art of
Loving the broken
Can see the beauty in
Human flaws anymore
I wish i could just see things
From a different angle
Like some holy mosaic
Only God could see from a far
But Im too near sighted
To see all the little broken pieces come
Together
Ive got to be up close
To see anything clearer
and I promise you
Theres no beauty from where im standing
Especially when its infront
Of a mirror

Some might say
Im wallowing in seld pity
But all ive done
Is just show all of me
Even the parts that arent so pretty

My brother
Used to call me a trophy case
With all my achievments
Out on display
Hed say i was showing off


But brother you are right
I am just a trophy case
See past all the glittering
Statues
And fancy certificates
And youll see something thats empty.

by Arcassin Burnham



why are all of you putting more weight on my shoulders,
waiting for the years of long pain and suffering to be over,
you all put me in a very messy mind state,
where i cant maintain,
suicide was the answer,
but it was never questioned,
out of all the ****** up things in my life,
all the exs and broken friendships,
i now realize that i cant be what they want me to be,
i can only be me,
get rid of some of this stress,
cant loosen up,
cant shake this phobia,
when all i do is shake,
like bruce banner looking for the cure to stop the hulk,
how can life go on from all my mistakes,
with bad people,
that i couldve impressed,
but failed miserably,
to know ive always hated myself,
father figures burned out of the picture,
if he could have been here my life wouldnt be like this,
deserving to die,
deserving not to live,
deserving not to care,
to live in anxiety,
probably for the rest of my life,
i hate myself.

"Poisonous" -kaitlyn warnken

I live in a grey and white world were i dont always get to see the sun, so I was in The flower garden.
In the garden, I noticed a flower from the distance that was full of color that I couldve never see before. A color your reality would call pink.
Oh how it was a poisonis flower, but to me this flower was beautiful.
I wanted to take it home all for myself. It showed me things i could never see before. I wanted to watch this flower grow. I needed colors and I learned that day that my love for pink was strong which soon became my only and favorite color. I like all flowers, but only I could see the pink in this flower. to the sky I wish all flowers could be pink, but in a world grey and white.. One was a miracle.
Oh how I loved this flower.
But Momma always told me not to pick the pretty flowers... Because They would die...
And daddy always told me to stay away from poisonis things becausw I would get hurt...
But in my world grey and white, I didn't want to leave the only thing that could bring color into my life, the only color I could see. So I sheltered the flower... And ate their leaves the leaves the flower gave to me.
Oh what a poisonis flower...
...Oh what a poisonis flower...

'I think I'm awake now. Ive never seen a place like this before were Everythings colorful.
Why am i grey?
Am i going insane?
Where is my flower?
Where is my flower?
Where is my flower...?

I didn't understand what was going on.
This flower gave me color and I just wanted to have my flower back.. I Dropped to my knees and cried in the green grass and asked the sky with a tear in my eye..

"How could somewhere so beautiful feel so ugly without my flower?..."

Im so grey. It didn't matter if the world saw color anymore... In my eyes it didnt matter anymore.
Nothing mattered anymore. My life faded black and I just wanted to wake up.
I felt like i was dreaming.'

I could feel the poison leaving my body and by this point I woke up.
When I opened my blood shot red eyes and lifted my sore body... I could see my flower.
I looked at myself and I was full of color!
I was pink! Just like my flower!.
I thaught, 'Oh what a poisonis flower

it is warped, a flash, altered fast,
a hummingbirds heartbeat
glances in mirrors reveal
what couldve held elegance,
but now holds no potential.
a rose stripped of petals,
cities smothered in fog,
we are hurling questions into canyons
hungry for echoes, imaged answers.
on february nights I discover
tight smirks and smiles.
vampires to paper,
my thoughts hold no reflection,
I could capture syllables
dripping like acid from your sick, posioned lips.
loud apologies, pleading, forgiveness,
and yet, I sense no guilt.
love stories of bruises and scars spell beauty,
murals, pansies of purple and yellow
flourish, fill the curves of my hips.
sighing at the blades trail,
you kicked and shamed me.
six months pass, marks splatter your arm
needles now plant promises, whispers,
lies you starved for.
fingers dance against the pistol, never pulling.
empty shivers, applause from the crowd,
twisted approval only you could hear.
eyes that once wept at my sickness
glaze and fall heavy, water beaten, eroded valleys.
syringes drain the handprints I left.
three a.m. brings shaded skies
your cries for help glow, a crescent moon.
but I am asleep.

You left me alone.
to walk this path carrying your burden.
Why are you walking away?
was it something I've done?
will I be judged alone?
you never said sorry
will I ever feel the same?

REALEASE YOUR SCREAM

why should I endure this pain alone?
I now grieve for what could've been.
am I not good enough?
am I just a toy?
for your amusement?
enjoyment?


you left me alone.
to walk this path carrying your burden.
why are you running away?!
why don't you help me?!

am I  nothing?
am I just a body
for your delicate fingers to touch?
to burn your eyes across my skin?
to use me?

RELEASE YOUR SCREAM

why should I be silenced!
the guilt eats me alive
to my bones.
I am so ashamed.
WHAT HAVE I DONE!
I COULDVE STOPPED IT!
I COULDVE SAID NO!
but I didn't.
I am selfish
in it for my own pleasure.

RELEASE YOUR SCREAM

I feel the force of air rip through
my throat.
and the pain feels too good.
Understand this now.
I made a mistake.

I RELEASE THIS SCREAM

July 17th 2014 11:49 PM

On the day I was born
I was given the name Felicia
Because my momma thought I was beautiful and happy

By the time I was a toddler
I did not think much of beauty
Nor did I think much of myself
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy

When I started school
I started to see beauty.
I thought it meant blonde hair
And pastel coloured skirts
I had neither, but did not think much of it
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy

By the time I was in third grade
I saw beauty even more
I saw it in my mother,
My friends and my teachers.
I thought it meant a smaller body
But that, I didn't know or think
Until I found out I was ten pounds lighter than my oldest brother.
He weighed 140. 
I started to really think about beauty
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy

By the time I started middle school
Things had really changed
I was not like my peers
I felt unbeautiful and awkward.
I began to loathe myself
I started seeing beauty
In everything but me.
Found fake love once
Forever scarred my heart.
Started developing phobias,
Couldn't be seen with some people
Couldn't let anyone hear me breathe.
I thought way too much of beauty
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy

When I was in seventh grade
I thought beauty meant good clothes
Pretty smiles
Fatter wallets
And thinner waistlines
(All of which I had none of)
I thought a lot about beauty
Decided to try something new
One
         Two
                   Three thin slices into my skin
(Found out cutting wasn't really my thing)
I made good friends
Tons of bitter enemies
That all, I felt, were prettier than me
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy

When eighth grade rolled around
I knew lots about beauty
But started caring for little of it.
Homelessness had racked my life
I worried more about keeping up with school
And picking up a new instrument
Than worrying about beauty
That I still thought a little about.
I made friends that didn't care either
I decided I can live my life
Ugly, in poverty, fat, and awkward
Although some nights I still did cry
About how I never had a boyfriend 
About how no one ever showed interest in me
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy

When I started high scho
Beauty was everywhere I turned
But a developing affair I had
With the lovely marching arts
Took all my worrying and cares
Away from beauty
But not completely.
I thought beauty meant
Shorter shorts
Tanner skin
Straighter hair
And an older age.
I was bullied for being a freshman
And often picks on for being far
I didn't  care much to look at myself in the mirror often
But I outwardly cared much less about  everything
Putting off a persona.
Found better friends
And less bitter enemies
That I thought much be a little prettier than me
Also found some bad friends
That couldve gotten me in trouble
Ones that helped create a nasty habit
Of taking things that weren't mine
I however saw a little beauty in myself
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy

Now, when I was a sophomore
I believe I truly found myself.
If  not all, then bits of myself.
I made even greater friends
Maybe even found love
And an ever deepening love for the marching arts.
I thought beauty meant
Great musical skill,
Being a good person,
An having a passion for something greater than yourself.
I  started to find beautiful things in people
That we're sometimes reflected in me.
Does that mean I  started to think I was beautiful?
I guess it does.
But I started to accept myself.
All my strengths
My flaws and my quirks and weaknesses
And I believe that comes along with finding yourself.
However,
Academic life started to slip
I did not care much for it
Did not care much for anything, really
But two things:
Love. And band.
Which both have kept me from
Falling into a deep dark abyss
That both of my siblings have experienced and ensures
One I do not safe fall into.
My nasty habit
Had only deepened
And gotten even more daring.
And still, my momma thought I was beautiful and happy

Today
I am fast approaching junior year
I am becoming a young adult
And I see beauty in everything
Myself included
It's amazing
And truly liberating
To feel this way
To not worry
Of what others think of me.
I still have phobias I had developed earlier
I still have the scars where I thought a solution may be found
And I still have a nasty habit
Yet I feel beautiful.
Some days are bad
Most days are good.
I have accepted myself enough
To take a step out of denial
And head toward the truth of change
And still
Through everything
(Although there is much here she does not know about)
My momma thinks I'm beautiful and happy.