nice
there once was a
girl who had curly hair
and eyes as blue as
the sky
and i always thought
she looked nice
we went to school
together
and became best
friends
her company was
really nice
then we were
suddenly off to a school very high
and she stopped
talking to me
but i always smiled
at her
and tried to be
nice
one day in that
school very high though
her and her new
friends laughed at me
insulted
me
and she'd say,
"nice!"
after awhile i
started to feel bad again
very
bad
and the blade in my
pencil sharpener
started to look
nice
i thought if i felt
bad on the inside
i could somehow make
myself feel better
on the
outside
so i took that blade
and carved on my skin "nice"
but the girl and her
new friends thought i looked bad too
they still made fun
of me
and the more they
did it
the more i drew
"nice"
and then soon
enough
inside and
outside
i was
bad
and waking up to a
new day didn't seem at all nice
i was gone that
january
and made people feel
bad
when they got up to
speak at the podium
"yes, she was a
kind girl"
"she was very
kind, very nice"
Instead of trying to "fix"
the sad boys and girls
who have scars on their
wrists (or their hearts),
how about we try to fix
what drove them to
such sadness.
(DS)
the sad boys and girls
who have scars on their
wrists (or their hearts),
how about we try to fix
what drove them to
such sadness.
(DS)
If I die before I wake,
do not waster your
energy in mourning me;
do not waste your tears
crying over me;
do not waste your time
thinking about my
pathetic life and all
that could have been.
But, please,
do not forget
me.
(DS)
do not waster your
energy in mourning me;
do not waste your tears
crying over me;
do not waste your time
thinking about my
pathetic life and all
that could have been.
But, please,
do not forget
me.
(DS)
I lay on my floor crying
again… shaking. Searching for inner strength and coming up
empty. My eyes burned and my mouth was dry as I sucked on air that
seemed to keep getting thicker and harder to breathe. I tried to
leave again, but ended up leaning my forehead against the door,
feeling defeated and wishing the Grim Reaper would come for me in
all his silky, black glory.
The night was cold, my hands were shaking. The metal gleamed
in the moonlight. How could something so destructive
be so beautiful? Then, I thought of your smile. So many
beautifully destructive things in my life, so it seemed. I
grasped the cold metal in my hands, contemplating my next
move. Just a knick of the wrist, that's all it would take
to sooth my aching soul. However, deep down inside, I knew
that it would only be fleeting. I drew a shaky breath,
pressing the cool blade against my warm flesh;
suddenly, it was knocked out my hand and I was enveloped in your strong arms. I didn't notice I was crying until your shirt was soked with my tears. You wrapped your arms around my waist as I clung to your chest desperately. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, you hear me?" I nodded silently, not trusting my voice at the moment. I looked to the sky outside my window, whispering thank you to the moon.
suddenly, it was knocked out my hand and I was enveloped in your strong arms. I didn't notice I was crying until your shirt was soked with my tears. You wrapped your arms around my waist as I clung to your chest desperately. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, you hear me?" I nodded silently, not trusting my voice at the moment. I looked to the sky outside my window, whispering thank you to the moon.
Everyone
looks to me
for strength, expecting
me to be able to fix all
their problems.
Yet, I can't even find
strength for myself;
I can't even fix my
own problems.
I tell everyone to
stay strong,
that they
are worth
the world and
more.
However, when I go home,
when day falls to night,
I am left alone with my
thoughts.
I can't even look in a
mirror without loathing
the person staring back
at me.
I can't look at my
own body without
wanting to take
a blade and tear
open my flesh,
staining my skin red.
Instead of looking to me
for the solutions, maybe
everyone should just
look to me and see
exactly what a person
is not suppose to be.
(DS)
for strength, expecting
me to be able to fix all
their problems.
Yet, I can't even find
strength for myself;
I can't even fix my
own problems.
I tell everyone to
stay strong,
that they
are worth
the world and
more.
However, when I go home,
when day falls to night,
I am left alone with my
thoughts.
I can't even look in a
mirror without loathing
the person staring back
at me.
I can't look at my
own body without
wanting to take
a blade and tear
open my flesh,
staining my skin red.
Instead of looking to me
for the solutions, maybe
everyone should just
look to me and see
exactly what a person
is not suppose to be.
(DS)
I've
got
a head full
of dark
thoughts,
and a
sharpened
blade;
such a
beautifully
destructive
combination.
(DS)
a head full
of dark
thoughts,
and a
sharpened
blade;
such a
beautifully
destructive
combination.
(DS)
I
think you're lovely
when you're laying
in the grass, your
eyes glistening in
the September Sun.
I think you're wonderful
as blood flows down your
wrists, and you're fighting
against the demons in
your head.
I think you're amazing
when your anger gets
the best of you and you
shut me out, and you try
to push me away—but
we both know I'm
not going anywhere.
But, to me, you're the most
beautiful when you look me
in the eyes and whisper,
help me, I can't do this
on my own.
And together, we throw
away your blades,
and you put down the
bottle of pills;
choosing to not
let the monsters
in your head win.
(DS)
when you're laying
in the grass, your
eyes glistening in
the September Sun.
I think you're wonderful
as blood flows down your
wrists, and you're fighting
against the demons in
your head.
I think you're amazing
when your anger gets
the best of you and you
shut me out, and you try
to push me away—but
we both know I'm
not going anywhere.
But, to me, you're the most
beautiful when you look me
in the eyes and whisper,
help me, I can't do this
on my own.
And together, we throw
away your blades,
and you put down the
bottle of pills;
choosing to not
let the monsters
in your head win.
(DS)
Sha(me)
6 years old,
happy face and happy belly
I remember my yellow and blue swimsuit
and not using floaties for the first time
no one would've guessed that i was 6 years old
and the bad voices were already there.
fat, fat, fat, fat, fat
I didn't know why I wasn't like the pink and purple
swimsuited girls I called my best friends.
9 years old,
crooked heart and hairline
I was very, very alone for the very first time
and the pink and purple shoed girls laughed at the
big books in my flimsy arms.
The pink and purple girls did handstands while I sat,
picking nervously at my skirt and making acquaintances
with the bad voices in my head.
stupid, fat, stupid, fat, stupid
12 years old,
choked-down tears and chubby face
and I liked three boys and none of them liked me.
They liked the skinny-minnie pink and purple bra'd
girls with long straight hair and high-pitched cackles.
stupid, fat, unwanted, fat, stupid, unwanted
My arms carried my friends' arms now,
but it made no difference. The bad voices knew better.
I am 15 years old
smaller body but not small enough,
and the pink and purple girls still win it all.
The bad voices poison me every day, they poison
the me in the hallway
the me in the mirror
the me in my warm bed
the me in the cold world
the me on my therapist's sofa
the me in my head
the me in front of a plate
the me in front of an exam
But I will face the voices and I will sew their lips together
and I will start to use my own more.
I am waiting waiting waiting
I hate this, I tried
6 years old,
happy face and happy belly
I remember my yellow and blue swimsuit
and not using floaties for the first time
no one would've guessed that i was 6 years old
and the bad voices were already there.
fat, fat, fat, fat, fat
I didn't know why I wasn't like the pink and purple
swimsuited girls I called my best friends.
9 years old,
crooked heart and hairline
I was very, very alone for the very first time
and the pink and purple shoed girls laughed at the
big books in my flimsy arms.
The pink and purple girls did handstands while I sat,
picking nervously at my skirt and making acquaintances
with the bad voices in my head.
stupid, fat, stupid, fat, stupid
12 years old,
choked-down tears and chubby face
and I liked three boys and none of them liked me.
They liked the skinny-minnie pink and purple bra'd
girls with long straight hair and high-pitched cackles.
stupid, fat, unwanted, fat, stupid, unwanted
My arms carried my friends' arms now,
but it made no difference. The bad voices knew better.
I am 15 years old
smaller body but not small enough,
and the pink and purple girls still win it all.
The bad voices poison me every day, they poison
the me in the hallway
the me in the mirror
the me in my warm bed
the me in the cold world
the me on my therapist's sofa
the me in my head
the me in front of a plate
the me in front of an exam
But I will face the voices and I will sew their lips together
and I will start to use my own more.
I am waiting waiting waiting
I hate this, I tried
