Who am I even writing for anymore?
Certainly not myself.

She's the love of my life.
From the top of her head,
to the bottoms of her feet.

She's the love of my life,
but not in the way you would think.

She's the love of my life.
She's the light of my day,
and the dark of my night.

She's the love of my life.
She's the water of the tide
and the stars in the sky.

She's the love of my life.
That won't ever change.
I love her with all of my head,
and she knows that.

Now that I know how it feels to be in a different mindset,
not think the way I normally would
and do and say what I'm usually afraid to say,
I never want to be sober again.

Being drunk makes me feel numb.
All my feelings finally go away,
and I can barely think.

I don't have the mindset to think
she said this
or
he did that.

I wish I could stay like that forever,
I'd never feel pain again.

I am too self-aware
for *******.

I can never catch
a break.

It's a constant struggle of
words thrown like daggers
and others putting me down
like their least favorite book.

When will I ever be
good enough?

If god was real,
he would not be this cruel.

From the abuse of my mother
to the shrugging shoulders of my friends,
and a broken heart that will never be
repaired.

A daughter with no
mother
and no
father.

A friend with no
will
and no
way.

A burn on flesh
and the scars in between.

A love that no one else
will return.

A death wish
wished upon a shooting star.

Don't you see?
I'm begging for help.

i don't know how i will heal this time

i do not regret it
i do not feel ****** about it
and i would do it again in a
*heartbeat.

he gave me a look that set
a fire in my heart.
he turned the lights off,
and my heart raced faster.
closer
and
closer he scooted,
but did nothing.
why didnt he kiss me?

I've found a home
in a new pair of
eyes.

Generations from now,
I will be a pile of bones,
a name that use to be,
a mind that use to think,
a mouth that use to speak.
I will be a story that people will think was a personality.
I will be a poet that no one speaks of,
a song that no one sings,
a picture that will burn.

I will be nothing but bones and a memory.

Her beauty aligns with the stars in the sky.

It's 5 am and I can't sleep,
because your face is haunting my dreams.

could you ever love me the same way you did
those few years ago?

If I still feel like this tomorrow:













**** me.

I just wanna **** his ****.

I look for you in
every song.

My mother hides things from me,
a lot of things,
but I can't be mad, I guess.

I do it, too.

I tell myself on a daily basis that I love myself,
how I look.

I've started to hate myself as the days go on.
My hair.
My eyes.
My cheeks.
My eyebrows.
My flawed skin.
My big hips.
My huge thighs.
My fat stomach.

I keep telling myself,
"you're gorgeous!!"

I can't do it.
I hate myself.

I'm ugly as can be.
Pictures show it.

My face is too oily,
my lips are too dry.

When will I become pretty?
I fear it to be never.

The hatred is back,
and I'm hating it.

It's terrifying how one flick of the wrist,
with the razor in between fingers,
doesn't hurt one bit.
No sting,
no burn,
just relief.

IM TRYING TO SLEEP BUT ALL I CAN THINK OF IS THAT TIME YOU SAID "I LOVE YOU" AND I GOT TINGLES IN MY FINGERTIPS AND A POUNDING IN MY CHEST BUT NOW THAT TINGLE IS GONE AND THAT POUNDING IS NO MORE.

I will always love you,
don't forget that.*

I didn't forget it,
but you did.

it's going to work out
it's going to work out
it's going to work out*

and nothing has hurt more.

I KNOW YOU'LL NEVER LOVE ME AGAIN AND MAYBE THAT'S HOW IT'S MEANT TO BE BUT I CANT HELP STAYING UP ALL NIGHT THINKING TO MYSELF "SHE'S THINKING OF ME."

I can't sleep.
It's because of you.

what everyone doesn't know is that
I've been doing this on purpose.

I hate everything that we've become.

I cannot see anymore.

But,
do you ever stop to think,
"Where did the idea come from?"

That's how I think it's possible.

I need her like I need air in my lungs.

I can't write about love.
I simply don't know how.
Sad things are my specialty.
I just wish I could form words about you.

I have love on my mind,
and a body that's always next to mine.
I'm still having those thoughts
that turn into huge knot.
My scars are starting to be mended,
oh, how I thought it had ended.

I hope you know.

The amount of scars that line my body could never amount to the love I have for you.

And then I realized,
you don't even care about me anymore.

I blame myself
for what you do to
yourself.

What's happened to me?

I actually care about what people think.
I care about popularity.
I want the football players to like me.

I've lost sight as to what's true.
I'm not myself anymore.

Who am I?

"The way you talk about him,
it's like you're in love with him."

I miss those late nights
where we would cuddle all night.
And I mostly just miss you,
**** I miss you.
I'm sad
and you're happy with another.

New scar,
new memory,
new story.

I feel the same way today











**** me.

I USE TO WAKE UP WITH BLOODSTAINED SHEETS AND A SMILE ON MY FACE BECAUSE I REMEMBER THINKING "YOU DID WELL" BUT I GUESS I'VE REALIZED THERE'S MORE I SHOULD BE PROUD OF THAN SELF DESTRUCTION.

and you make me feel so vulnerable.

I
regret
the
day
I
met

you.

I dyed my hair so that I do not resemble my father anymore.