The right way (Poem #152)

I’ve always struggled,

to find the right words,

or the right way to show I care,

or the right way to speak about pain,

or the right moment to express myself,

or the right way to hide just enough of me that I don’t get hurt,

or the right way to fall in love,

or the right way to dance on eggshells for others,

or the right way to place my hand upon your face that you can’t feel mine tremble,

or the right way to smile so shyly that it looks like innocence but it really simply fear,

or the right way to kiss a stranger and make them feel like it means nothing yet means everything,

or the right way to not feel,

or the right way to say I forgive you when really the ache in my heart says I won’t forgive me,

or the right way to sit across the room from someone I love and tell them I am happy for them when my world is falling apart,

or the right way to say I’m simply not hungry when really hunger doesn’t come close to how I feel,

or the right way to say just enough that you will believe me when I say I am ok…

I’ve been training myself for years…

for the right way to pretend to be me,

but the right way isn’t working anymore,

and I am helplessly lost,

with no right way to go,

or no right way to fix this and move on,

and I am starting to curse myself,

because the right way used to seem so clear,

but now the right way is filled with the fog of tears,

the dew of sadness,

and the raindrops of despair,

even though the clouds are filled with emptiness,

it is still raining,

and in the wind I hear it,

saying that the “right way” is what lead me right here…

Porcelain Skin (Poem #150)

Daddy doesn’t like the piercings,

Says I am telling young men that I will do things,

That I am making an image I don’t understand of myself,

He doesn’t like the tattoos,

Says I will regret the ink,

That I am ruining my beauty…

Daddy you don’t understand,

The innocent beauty you are holding on to was taken from me at thirteen,

The metal doesn’t take away my ability to consent,

and by you stating that I am making an image of myself you made and excuse for the man you claimed you would kill when I told you what he did to me,

Daddy you hate the idea of someone’s hands touching me,

but you never asked what I wanted.

Daddy you don’t see that I use the ink and needles to replace the blade of a knife,

that I would rather make something beautiful out of the pain.

And daddy I thought you would be proud of me

because it is easier to explain a tattooed and pierced daughter

than one with scares and blood running down her arms.

Daddy why can’t you see past the ink and the metal,

Daddy let go of the little girl you think I am,

because I haven’t been a little girl for a long time,

Daddy why can’t you see that this is something much bigger than you will ever understand,

Daddy why can’t you accept ink stains on porcelain skin over blood stains on a broken heart?

 

Sometimes the nicest people you meet are covered in tattoos, while the most judgemental people you meet go to church on Sundays.:

Demons live inside me (Poem #146)

I have demons in my brain,

And angel on my heart,

The Devils plays his game inside,

So much I fall apart.

He reminds of my heartache,

And teases me with love,

Then reminds me I’m not worth it,

Reminds me I’m not enough.

As the angel sits there crying,

Begging me to stay,

I put the gun to my head,

I pray to live one less day.

My hands they start to shake,

As the devil, he appears,

With open arms and big blue eyes

To whip away my tears.

He pleads for me to love him,

And to stay just one more day,

He gives me everything I want,

Then tears it all away. 

The angel wants me alive,

So he can give me love,

The devil wants a play thing,

To get his bidding done. 

Because heaven is far away,

And I stand on the brink,

Of hell on earth and suicide,

Please just let me stop and think.

Would I rather be dead,

Or standing here not truly alive,

I guess I’ll never know,

Because I never really tried. 

So I lay with tears screaming down my cheeks,

Goodnight my angel,

Goodnight my devil,

Love truly your play thing. 

Intimacy (poem #126)

   

I have so many secrets,

The biggest,

How I feel.

This photo is just one crystal on my chandelier now shattered on the ground,

You have seen more of me than you ever will,

Because this captured the moment everything fell apart,

Truly there is nothing more intimate… 

Your next status (poem #105)

Avert your eyes children,

because your attention span is up,

social media is calling you back into it’s arm,

to hide you from a world filled with pain.

Until it hurts you,

then you will understand;

how quickly the world that embraces your stupid statuses

about being thugs, basketball, or doing drugs

will turn a blind eye to your sorrow as you cut your wrist.

Social media claims to be bringing us together,

but it took the individual out of individuals

and replaced it with what can get the most likes and re-tweets.

I bet you if you put a status out there,

about how you really feel,

the responses will surprise you;

because even though you may receive a million

you could see them the next day

and they would look through you as if your status update was a joke,

and as if that one person

who told you to die

never spoke a word to your soul.

Social media didn’t create friendships…

it created monsters.

Four in one; cry for help….(Poem #102)

One tear fell,                                                                                          Quickly

by the rushing revine,                                                                     as it all rushes by

as the tall blond girl,                                                        never knowing what will happen next

let a scream petrude from her lips,                                        praying the answer will come

the last mercy call,                                                                    to anyone willing to listen,

and cry for help.                                                                       hopefully not onto deaf ears.

His hands shock,                                                                         Rapidly

as they twisted,                                                             grabbing at bits and piece

and knoted the rope,                                                       trying to keep it together

if it was too lose,                                                              everything would fall apart

he would suffer,                                                                         worse than before

too tight….                                                                             and it would be too late.

he is already dead….

Believe (Poem #86)

My brain keeps telling me that I am not worth it for you to deal with,
My brain keeps telling me that I will never be pretty enough to make you be proud to be with me,
My brain keeps telling me that my body type isn’t perfect enough to be sexy in your eyes,
My brain keeps telling me that my breast and butt are still too small to make other jealous that you have me,
My brain keeps telling me that I will never be smart enough to be successful enough to support us,
My brain keeps telling me that tomorrow isn’t worth it, because you will probably leave,
My brain keeps telling me that I am not enough and that I will never be,
My brain keeps telling me all these lies…
So my brain keeps telling me all these things,
Yet you remind me that all these things are lies,
And today….today I decided to believe you!

Why I can’t go back…(Poem #79)

I would pick up the blade,

but I can’t,

I can’t bring myself to it again,

It isn’t the blood,

or the pain,

the scares,

or the dirty looks,

or the stares,

or the stigma…

It’s the effect it has on me inside,

I can’t bring myself to hate myself again,

to look at my body in disgust and distaste,

because slowly

but surely,

I am seeing myself as beautiful!