I feel as though you are a wild beast
Only I can tame
It is this
that makes me fall
Dear Sammantha,I can't believe you.
I trusted you with something that you had no business knowing, but I told you because I thought you could keep it to yourself. After all the times I stood up for you to all the people that called you a liar, obnoxious, and even worse things, you do that.
You were upset about how you didn't get the job, but I couldn't say it yet. So to make you feel better, I did the stupid thing of telling you about someone elses Application.
And you tell them.
Guess what? I'm done with you. You're ripping away one of the few things that can always make me happy. You're getting me removed from one of the things I'm proud of. That place was my escape from depression, cutting, and everything else terrible that happened to me. It was a place I felt at home, and happy.
Now you're getting me fired for trusting you with something that I shouldn't have done. It was a huge risk telling you what I did, but I trusted you. I hadn't told anyone else that had asked me, but I had told you becaus
A MomentToday, a kid at my school's father died.
I don't think many of us knew why but his page is and still is being covered with good wishes and people helping him to stay strong.
I've never really liked too many people in my class but this opened my eyes.
No matter what or who we are, when tragedy strikes we band together.
To people who say the human race is "doomed" and that our generation is self-obsessed and stupid, understand that though we will make mistakes we know to pull it together when we should.
RIP Mr. Windhorst <3 May you rest in peace.
2016 c:(WARNING: THIS IS A DREAM I HAD, AKA I COULDN'T REALLY CONTROL WHAT HAPPENS. IT JUST DOES. DON'T JUDGE ME PLEASE.)
It was another cool summer morning. I could lightly hear a sunshower starting and I smiled to myself. Life was good, really, really good. I turned on my side and eyed my clock, 10 o'clock on the dot per usual. I slowly slid out of bed and smiled down at Rowan who was still fast asleep. "I'll give her a few more minutes..." I whispered to myself. I slid on some slippers and lightly trotted down the stairs, careful not to wake anyone just yet. As I arrived downstairs I saw Haley leaning against the kitchen island, the newspaper in one hand and a hot coffee in the other. I yawned loudly and waved, "Hey, how'd ya sleep?" I asked her and grabbed myself some cereal from the table. "Fine, I could hear Stevie snoring from next door though so I woke up a few times." She rolled her eyes and smiled "so obviously she hasn't been using her mouth guard." I chuckled to myself and noticed
TodayToday heard the song in your voice,
Today I sat and watched you.
This was the day I had a double take,
This was the day I hated myself.
The day after yesterday I realized it was my fault,
The day after yesterday I figured out I've made too many mistakes.
The day before tomorrow I feel a new feeling,
The day before tomorrow I feel jealousy.
The current 24 hours and all behind it were hours I wanted laughing,
The current 24 hours and all behind it I wanted you back.
Today I found out I love you,
Today I wanted her gone.
Writing Challenge Day o'3'o1. One word: Respect
2. Act sweet, blush, and realize you don't always have to be a tough guy
3. Don't be an asshole (If you haven't noticed, this is VERY important to me)
4. I'm sorry but... I prefer it if they're not ugly (ikik I'm horrible)
5. Being Smart. Not brilliant, but hopefully not failing
6. Eyes. OMG colourful eyes are teh bomb <3
7. Be fit/sporty. But please, I'm begging here, don't. brag. about it.
8. Be there for me, but understand when I need space.
it doesn't matter
to you or me or him or her or them
or the flowers dying
beneath my window
i'll dream or not,
just rest within the darkness
behind my eyelids
let the spiders crawl across my skin
and cast their webs in the caves
of my collarbones
pool water into my lungs
and build a pond for koi fish
that slither through my throat like serpents
when i try to talk
in my sleep
but mummer only incoherent wisps of dandelion
that evaporate in the rain
thrashing outside the door
leave me like a ship washed up onshore;
graves within my soul
and souls within my veins
ghosts pumping through my heart
put a rose in my hands and let the thorns prick my thumb
i'll bleed until my skin is violet
and the bags beneath my eyes are gray
the walls will hug me years from now
when this room has fallen in
and all my books have flown away
to nest in sparrow beds
they'll save themselves
and the batteries in the clock
read this when you're so angry you shakelittle drops of oil make rainbows on wet concrete
and i don’t know how beautiful you find that,
but sometimes you gotta learn that
the littlest things are the prettiest,
like the shape of your fingernails and the crinkles
you get at the corner of your eyes when you laugh and
when you grow old and i know i said “grow old”
like it’s a temporary thing, but that’s because it is.
you can think it’s forever but it’s really
a split second because you don’t matter, not when
the universe is still growing and speeding through a nothingness
we can’t even fathom, not when color doesn’t exist in space
but nebulas still explode in shades of gold and green,
not when there are stars who die
before their light ever touches our faces. you don’t matter,
not to anyone but the people who have fallen in love
with the way you walk and the way you breathe
and the way you keep doing both.
i don’t care that the universe is spinning and grow
This is not a poem (the world is broken)This is not a poem because this
is for the hollow-eyed teens
stubbed out and stamped on
by society like the cigarettes
they hold in pale fingers as they
try to laugh the pain away but
never entirely succeed.
This is not a poem because this
Is the silent cry of the rapist’s victim
As they look into the mirror and a
Thousand ugly words and screams
And pleadings echo back from the
Dark alleyway and all they think is
This is not a poem because this
Is for the boy told he cannot cry, because
It’s a weakness to ‘act like a girl’
And this is for the short-haired
Girl told it’s not her place
To ‘act like a boy,’ because
Even though it’s 2015 we
Haven’t moved past destructive
Gender roles yet.
And this is not a poem because
There isn’t a pretty way to talk
About children in abusive homes,
Partners attacked by their
Beloved other half and this is for
For the families going through divorce,
For the families missing a p
Depression is an OptionDepression is a choice, my dear,
And happiness the same
You choose this illness, don’t you?
What a tragic little game.
Depression is an option, love
Just get up out of bed
Take your tears and worries
And just smile now instead.
Depression is a choice, you see,
And so is suicide.
Just sit back, kick your feet up, dear
Enjoy this perfect ride.
Get over your own standards
Of what everyone should be.
Just smile for once, and maybe
You’ll be living perfectly.
Depression is an illness
That we feel so deep within.
Why would anybody choose
To write poetry on their skin?
Unless there lies a reason, dear,
I would not choose to die.
If depression was an option...
I’d choose to say goodbye.
a list of things colleges don't want to know1. i have a cactus named atticus that i bought
on the day i thought i was going to die,
and i never forget to water it, not
even when i forget how it feels
to breathe without my lungs rebelling
against my brain.
2. sometimes talking feels like walking on gravel
in a Georgian summer heat.
i try to keep talking anyway,
and hope that eventually
my voice will lose its softness and grow calluses.
3. once, a man whistled at me
outside of a grocery store from
the safety of his car.
four years later, i still haven’t stopped looking
over my shoulder.
4. i drive too fast and i take turns too sharply
and i never put enough sugar
in my tea and i could probably survive
on watermelon alone. i’m left handed
and once taught myself to write only in capital
letters to piss off my seventh grade english teacher.
5. i have never felt closer to my father
than when we stayed
outside till two a.m. in november and watched
a meteor shower.
6. there are some things
i don’t think i’ll ever
an open letter to my twelve year old selfone day you will cut all your hair off,
and hang up a map of the world in your
room and you will look at it on days
you think your life is going nowhere.
i hate to tell you this, but this isn’t
your worst year. it also isn’t your
one day you will cut all your hair off
and realize that some poems need to be read
out loud, to an audience, so you’ll take a hammer
and some nails and build yourself one
out of a girl whose veins look fragile but
whose bones are strong, a boy who isn’t as tall as
he thinks he is, but whose lifelines are the deepest
you’ve ever seen, and a girl whose eyes remind you of the
east coast shore.
one day you will cut all your hair off,
and learn that you can like pink
just as much as you like blue
and the world will not fall apart
along its fault lines. there are other flags
you can wave with pride that
one day you will cut all your hair off
and figure out how to forgive yourself,
figure out how to sta