this girl whose name i won't say

it's kind of scary, how so many
beautiful people don't know how
amazing they truly are.

and they think they have no where
to belong, when so many people
wish they would see them.

she's absolutely gorgeous, and
she can't even see it.

is it bad that it makes me want to cry?

she doesn't deserve to be lonely.

f l i g h t (picture)

.

Drown

i'm surrounded by Too Much To Do,
and People To Please.

i don't know what i'm supposed to
be Saying anymore.

so the only valid option is to
sit around, and count my

Diminutive Nothings.

__________

a/n: haven't written a poem like this in a while, this is the first piece i've written in about three moths that hasn't been a slam, or prosetry.

needed {prose}

i needed to take a step back from everything. i cared, but i was young, and the young don't care. it didn't matter much what i saw, in all honesty. it could be terrifying, or fill me with disgust. but that wasn't true.  i needed someone to show me something beautiful. it meant so many different things to me, that i couldn't recognize any of it around me. it was everywhere. mostly.

i needed some of my hopes to come true. but i was young, and the young become old too quickly, and are too far gone to notice that they had everything. i wished i was delicate. i wished i could become a writer. i needed to find some sort of eternal genie for my sorrows, to be free of the weight that was pressed onto my shoulders. but all of my hopes lied around me, dropping at my feet one-by-one. by then i was looking too far up to realize.

i needed time to pass. i needed it to consume me. but i'm young, and getting less young every day. time has already consumed me. and maybe with time my name will change a few times, or i'll get a hideous tattoo that eventually fades, but at whatever point, time will always be there to pass me by. always was.

and you know, i didn't really need anything.

tide

she couldn't take the heat
of the argument so she
drove off and took a bath
in the river, except it
wasn't really a bath, it was her suicide.

the sun was burning
her up, twisting her body
inside out until it
showed people the parts
of her she didn't
want seen.

she could taste the dryness
on her tongue before she
plunged herself under,
not caring that she was
throwing something away.

she didn't even wonder
if anyone would cry at
her funeral, and she
never found out,
but all of them did.

and she never knew,
that she was dead.
(but not really.)

didn't think {prose}

it's surprising how many people walk without purpose, without direction. and i wonder if we're thinking the exact same thing, but then i think, no, why would i think that, when everyone is probably asking themselves that too, so maybe i'm more normal than i had originally decided., and we do this too much, just throwing our legs forward and hoping we'll end up somewhere but we always end up somewhere, even if its a place we don't actually like yet.

punch

i'm not usually an angry sort of person
but you people make me want to scream,
aloud in a room full of people and there's
nothing to be mad about but i need to yell,
and push you down a flight of stairs in a one-story
home; so you won't break your neck but maybe
something will be broken.

painted white

sometimes i think i've been painted white to
blend in with the walls behind me. and
my body's been strung up on a ceiling-fan,

(but no one can see me because i'm one of
those ghosts without a purpose.)

no one can sense the broken spirit in a small
smile or stare, and i'm drunk on this feeling of
non-existence.

i'm wasted, developing another addiction for this
high; it's a gaze thrown into the air around us,
drawn to the tense emotions within my
rotting, invisible corpse.

(but no one can see me because i'm one of
those ghosts without a purpose.)

do it {prosetry}

sometimes, i don't think
i deserve to live.

this is one of those times.

just kill me already. i beg you.

failure

i build myself up just to talk to you.
but i couldn't even manage a smile.

what kind of
love is this.

i'm writing about you

i write to the nameless, who, so far have
given me everything and nothing to say.

and i write to the world around me as it

keeps turning
around and
around, on

an unstable axis
that hordes unbridled power.

double dare

just try to tear me apart, i dare you.

you'll find that i'm much stronger than
the last time.

and speaking of last times,
this is yours.

god

i'm not the kind of girl that believes in god.

i'm the kind of girl that's running out of things to believe in.

such a prude

you know, you might call it too innocent but i call it knowing what my morals are.

nostagalia

i thought that by looking back it would bring me closer
to them, to tears. but it did the opposite and now i'm
a stranger to their happiness.

i thought that by looking back it would make me
smile. i really really really haven't done that in a while
but i didn't cry, i only felt alone.