A Writer's Hell

her face, darkened by the shadow of her black hair.
running away from everything she thought she wanted.
heart empty, forgotten dreams, she shared with him,
on cold nights beside a fire,

He's D
I
F
F
E
R
E
N
T
Now.

Everything you needed, and now nothing you want.
tears soak my pillow and thoughts race to who I used

to be before we were US.
Maybe It Really Is ME. The Problem Is ME.

Can't sleep, Can't Breathe, My Arms Have Been

Attacked Again...By The Only Friend I Talk To....

In This world of skinny, I am fat. In this world of

light I am DARK. I cant escape me.

You havent done anything wrong...Its all me.

from the day I was born until now...
My heart beats for my writing. My body aches for a

pen. to tell everyone what they feel but wont say.

I have what it takes to tell the truth.

I am extreme, I am hyper and depressed. I am loud and

sometimes anti-social. if you dont like me. I DONT

CARE.

I want to be thin. to breathe once again and be the

me I used to know.

behind my eyes is a secret place. I know Im different

than all of you, I just dont know why.

Her hair blows in the wind, she lay in a field of

dreams, swimming through the too tall grass, drowning

inside of this massive earth.

I try to tell you, theres no use, I am so messed

up..if only you knew..I have to live in this body,

this soul is burdened. I am fighting to break free

but I am S
T
U
C
K
And you try to rescue me, but I dont

even know who I am enough to find myself. so I die

here.

Alone...in this ocean of pain...never understanding

anything ...only my writing... never knowing what I

was supposed to do in life...and I Vanish.

people dont talk about you after you're gone for too

long, it gets to be old news and everyone moves on.
but I am stuck somewhere in the middle and I can

still see everyone but noone can hear me and I'm

SCREAMING for HELP.....WAKE UP....

Im in my bed and HAUNTED. My notebooks call to me,

write it down, someday I wont be here and someone

will want to know me. WRITE.

when the day comes that I am gone you will all find

my notebooks and condemn me. Cutting isnt a christian

thing to do. when I am in my casket... DONT HIDE MY

SCARS. I have hid them my WHOLE LIFE.

When I am gone, my HOPE is That SOMEONE will finally

want to KNOW ME. That Someone will Finally HEAR WHAT

IVE BEEN SAYING THE ENTIRE TIME.

I AM THE BROKEN, but YOU CAN'T FIX ME. Why Is It So

Hard To Love Me As'Is...Because Thats All I have to

offer and I wont be around forever. NOONE LIVES

FOREVER. I dont want to live this whole life

suffocating. trapped. and thats all I have known.

Writing Is My Medicine. and Music Is My Therapy.
Let me be who I am and love me through it all.