She's the kind of girl,

Who loves sunset pink,

And dancing to sad pop.

She's the kind of girl,

That loves playing trombone,

And doesn't believe in shallowness.

She's the kind of girl,

Who cries when she's alone,

And fears the shadows of the night.

She's the kind of girl,

With fists like iron,

And love that burns like fire.

These words aren't coming easily,

When I try to write them down,

I can't force poetry on my pages,

But I want to explain my frown.

You see, sixteen going on twenty,

Is a tired age to be,

There are bags under my eyes,

And my eyebrows are so heavy.

And if I died tomorrow,

I know I would be missed,

But the sweet release of no more pain,

Seems almost worth death's kiss.

I stare at my razor,

Too long in the shower,

Wondering about cutting my wrists,

To bleed out in the water.

And after those thoughts,

I shake my head,

And call myself so silly,

Push them to the back of my mind,

To wonder why,

I'm in such an emotional tizzy.

You see, in a world of shallowness and tik tok,

It's not at all easy to be sixteen,

When all the girls that are my age,

Are only twerking and vlogging in their dreams.

I'm not into gossip or rumors,

I don't think I'm ready for a boyfriend,

I have enough makeup already,

And I don't care about new trends.

Everyone thinks I'm older than I am,

Because of the way I act,

And I'm even tired of being seen as mature

Because my mental health is not intact.

Blanket scribbles across the mind,

Changing thoughts to the vile kind,

That eat the confidence away,

Left to feel cold, alone and afraid.

Hands tremble and muscles ache,

Filled with fatigue they themselves make,

Fingers fly across the keyboard,

Typing more mistakes than they can afford.

Breaths come in shortened gasps,

Not filling the lungs with enough oxygen to last,

Coating the body in airless static,

As the eyes fill with empty black.

The world falls into blurring haze,

The mind a tremulous, tumultuous haze,

Spinning as the brain's thoughts pound,

And the body crashes to the ground.

And once again the haze falls away,

Replaced by clearer light of day,

Leaving one alone on the floor,

Broken, empty, cold and afraid.

My therapist said I was younger than four,

When I learned that I would never be enough,

That years went by inside my brain,

And made me older than I was.

I don't remember most of that time,

Only after I was six,

And I started to write.

When I was seven I decided,

That I could be just enough,

If I gained not a pound more,

And stayed skinny and short.

When I was nine I learned,

That boys and girls are different,

They pushed me away,

And called me names,

Because of my gender.

When I was ten my mom told me,

She expected more of me than my brother,

The fifteen year old boy,

Who no one saw struggling.

I thought I had to be an adult.

When I was eleven I learned,

What it means to be betrayed,

To lose all of your friends,

Because of a popularity status you can't change.

When I was twelve I was stuck,

Listening to a boy,

Tell me about my body,

Like I was nothing but a pretty toy.

When I was thirteen I decided,

The world was better off alone,

And I wasn't needed anymore,

To drown in my sorrows.

At fourteen I learned,

That she had always known,

The woman I trusted with my life,

Had been the one to leave me drown.

At fifteen I've decided,

I don't care any more,

There's nothing worse in this world,

Besides physical torture.

So when she gripes and she yells,

About how my face never changes,

I hold myself back from explaining,

That she's the one that did this.

I'm not an easy person to like.

I talk too much,

And my voice fills the silence,

Because I'm afraid,

Of the dead, never-ending quiet,

That comes with rejection.

I laugh too loud,

When the others are polite,

And I can't stop the smile,

That is my very plight.

I smile too big,

When I am supposed to be sad,

And somber like the others,

Because happiness is bad.

I ask too many questions,

When I feel insecure,

And I know I annoy everyone,

Because of my need to make sure.

I fight too much,

With my words and my fists,

And create an environment,

Where even peace feels amiss.

I give too much,

Until I have nothing left,

And my body is an empty well,

Drained dry by their theft.

I let them hurt me too much,

Because I forgot how to stand up,

And fight another day,

And not be a rug.

I am not an easy person to like,

I must be impossible to love.

I said I would be strong,

When times grow tough,

And all is lost,

And the world has grown rough.

I said I would carry you,

If you needed my aid,

And I could be your shelter,

Protecting you from the rain.

I would hold you when you cried,

Because that's what friends do,

Never mind that you turn away.

When I threaten to break, too.

I promised you all the world,

Before I understood,

That you cared a lot less about me,

Than you really should.

I let you use me,

Every moment I was awake,

To take my mind in your hands,

And twist it until it breaks.

Are you happy now,

When I am broken and alone,

And all is lost,

I watch you leave me in the dust.

I am not strong enough.

I don't think we understand,

How twisted we've become,

There are children being sent to die,

While we're oblivious in our fun.

Can't you see the faces,

Of those little ones who've died,

Forced to face the full brutality,

Of a justice system that has lied?

Can't you hear them screaming,

They are crying for your help,

Some will die in the chair today,

And some will rot on the prison's back shelf.

And yet, here we are,

Living our daily lives,

As if our friends and family,

Couldn't possibly be the next to die.

Today I feel so helpless,

Trapped inside my own head,

I can't seem to break out,

Which must be why I feel so dead.

The world is moving forward,

Assignments due every day,

And yet I seem to remain in place,

Watching opportunities fade away.

I want to run or scream or hide,

Anything but be inside,

But whenever I seem to try,

I break down in my room and cry.

It's too much.

It's too much.

It's too much.

I cannot keep the darkness at bay,

It creeps up behind me,

It always seems to find me,

No one sees me fading away.

I've fought so hard and for so long,

Don't I deserve a break,

A break from the stress,

So my work isn't late.

I'm trying!

I'm trying!

I swear I'm trying!

A Civil War Poem

The flowers were stained red,

With the blood of those who died,

Soldiers spread across the battlefield,

And the flowers far and wide.

I watched them from a distance,

How they swayed in the wind,

So heavy and so weighted,

With the blood of those unfortunate men.

How sad it is that we've resorted to this,

When it comes to our own countrymen,

How hard times must be,

When we will kill our own friends.

I see blue and gray and red,

Molded together,

For what does it matter what color they wore,

When they will all be dead forever?

I wish I could be free,

From this torturous eternity,

Where whatever I try to do,

Will be unseen by those who see,

For I am a woman true.

I’d hate to try and speak my mind,

To free myself from this plight,

When I know that whatever I will try,

Could never win this fight,

For now I am a woman, too.

I cannot believe that you are blind,

To the fear inside my eyes,

For your suppression, I come to find,

Is here to silence my cries,

A woman used to be one of a kind.

Now I am nothing,

Unequal to you,

Except as a footrest,

To rest your new woman shoes,

I used to be a woman, too.