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Day 1in my hands i hold
the first shot burns as it flows
down my throat and then to my head
whiskey is my wine and vodka is my bread.
they cheer me on: drink another, drink again
and when i am all alone i just pretend.
it may not taste like love but it is all i know
the feeling cradles me as i sink down below.
the girl with the scars on her arms and heart
she forgets herself slowly, part by part.
every laugh that escapes as the cups go down
is one more laugh away from being drowned,
when they ask me if i am really okay,
if i really should drink anymore today,
my eyes meet theirs with a hallow smile on my face:
alcohol is not my problem, it's me wanting
to be erased.
a series of imperfectionsa series of imperfections marks my existence:
i am too short to reach for the sky
i am too heavy to leap up and fly,
i am too dark to see the into the light
i am too feminine to put up a fight.
at least, that's what they try to make me believe:
you need to know that we do not value you,
you need to know what we say is absolutely true,
you need to stay back where you are placed,
you need to give in and be erased.
in this society i am a blemish and yet here i am:
i stand with my arms reaching as high as they may,
i jump up to fly day after day
i look in the mirror and see only shine,
i am a woman and i protect what is mine.
Just Say ItThe room was silent as Alex stared around at his plain dorm walls. It was 10 PM on a Friday night and there he was studying for German class. With a sigh the thin boy leaned back in his chair and looked down at his vocabulary list.
"Ich liebe..." he began attempting to practice his pronunciation.
Before he could really get into saying what he liked though, the door shot open. Alex's blue eyes shot up in surprise as he saw his tanned skinned roommate burst through the door with a broad smile.
Raji's black hair hung wetly down the side of his head as he exclaimed, "Alex you'll never guess what I've gotten!"
Unsure what Raji could have gotten while taking a shower before he went out for his usual night on the town, Alex brushed his hand through his blond hair and sighed, "I don’t know Raji, did some guy sneak in there and give a blow job or something?"
The tall male smirked, "I wish." Then he hurried over to Alex's desk and crossed his arms triumphantly, “No what I’ve go
It feels so delicious
The nothing resting
At my center
At my core.
Every unappetizing rumble
Reminds me how close I am
To being bright
To becoming better
Than what I use to be.
The fatigue always kicks,
Tears at my brain.
Though the bones peek beautifully
Through my pallid skin
My body cannot function
On what I don't put in.
The blackouts do scare me
When they decide to pop up
Once I was in class learning,
No food for two days.
In Algebra I guess that must equal
Running to the restroom
And collapsing into waste.
There's doctors who want to diagnose me
Who want to stick me in a pin
With little tubes of 'nourishment'
So the disgusting fat can win.
Like hell I'll let them though,
I'm fine as fine can be...
I don't need you to help me.
BeautyBeauty beauty beauty
They say beauty does not matter.
They are fucking liars.
My large nose clashes
With their scuplted norm
My broad little shoulders
Are simply out of form.
Were I a foot taller
Were I skinny and clean
Then maybe, perhaps
The world wouldn't be so
And maybe boys wouldn't run
At the sight of my
Imperfect wild hair
If beauty didn't matter
Then Seventeen Magazine wouldn't
Make me wanna care
To hide my ugly face
Or losing 5 pounds
Till I barely take up space.
They keep telling me
Those beautiful people do
"Its alright to be be ugly"
Well, I guess
Someone has to.
Headphones Tell the TruthDear Diary,
When you still hate someone,
lovethem just as much.
Though you pass them in the hallways
And pretend you don't know them,
The music blaring from your headphones
Tells the truth:
Adele, Christina Perri, Abba
Someone like You, Arms, the Winner Takes it All.
Who knew there were so many
Broken hearted songs?
Songs for girls like you who've
Let their heart win
And lost all they thought they had?
When you hate someone so much your heart hurts,
Then diary, I believe,
You may be keeping yourself from
Such lovely, other songs.
FriendshipI hope you're reading this,
But you're probably not.
Because you can't be bothered with caring
That might make you realize
What an asshole you are.
I'm not here to call names though
No, that's the last thing I'd ever want to do
At least, to you.
What I'm here for is not to grovel on my knees either
It's not to say how much I miss
Your anger, your hate, your unjustified envy.
The reason I'm here is just to promise
I'm just not perfect
It's to assure you
I cry at night when no one's looking,
I lose myself in the flow,
Sometimes I think I'm not me anymore,
But I am, I am,
I'm becomming everything I'm supposed to
No, I'll never hate you again.
No matter what,
I won't hate you.
And I won't be jelous, and I won't love,
Honestly I feel sorry for you.
Because you are so very sad,
Just like me.
Yeah, I Hate My ParentsYeah,I hate my parents.
Like every other teenager,
I wallow in angst and ask why in the world
I was born to such screw ups.
Her shiny fake smile to the world,
Her irked real face
Her complaining and whining
Her lack of any sort of parental responsilbilty.
She's a teenager just like me.
One moment we're friends
The next I wish I had someone who would stop me
Who would worry,
I don't want a friend for a mother.
His cynical view of the world
His phone calls once every year
His guilt stained Christams money
Finally remembering his sperm created a breathing creature.
He's a teenager just like me.
One moment we're friends
The next I wish I had a Daddy to spoil me
Like in one of those
Cheesy father daughter movies.
My self important feelings of loneliness
My blame that I enjoy dishing out but not gulfing down
My heart which reach outs to Mom and Dad
To stop short once it remembers every let down they ever put me through.
I'm just a teenager
One moment I
To: YouThrough my fingers slip your grasp
It happens fast
And I taste the past
Like metal, and thorns, and a three week old donut
It leaves a nasty after taste.
You never knew where you were treading
All I saw was
The direction you weren't heading.
It was far from me and closer to her
What was I to do?
It's been months now since I've heard
Since you made
Do you miss me?
I doubt it.
Did you kiss me?
I'm left here alone contemplating the difference
Between love and lust
Between hurt and humour
Sometimes I look at your number still on my cellphone and smile
Then I remember the last phone call we had,
And how much it
Thought I'd never be here again
Thought I was as strong as superman, superwoman, or whatever
But you really screwed me up, jerk.
I don't know what love is any more,
Thanks to you.
I'm scared I'll fall again
Into a deeper hole that's not even love at all.
What do I do?
What love is true?
I hate this, I hate you,
As much as I hate the fact
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
Echoes we are like
in the middle
but not quite
what we truly
Tonight, I finished a roll of toilet paper
that I had started
a month, 8 days,
two hours, and 21 minutes ago.
Its genesis, June 11th,
one of the worst nights of my life,
I took a roll from my small bathroom,
and silently tucked it under my arm.
I couldn't let my girls know.
They couldn't know
I was going to use this as my broom.
They couldn't know
that I swept my shattered heart
under my bed.
And I wept.
My pillow taking my abuse,
my suffocation and my attacks.
My fingers squeezing it for dear life
and my knuckles as I punched it,
imagining it was her.
Then hugging it.
I only cried that hard
when I was about 6.
She was gone.
And so was I.
I cried every night
which would've marked
our 7-month anniversary.
And in the late days of that month,
I lied to myself.
And for that,
I regret every moment.
I wasn't ready.
At least I stopped it,
before we drowned each other
like the last woman.
Two weeks lat
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