In hospitals

you had a way of

saving yourself

when nobody thought

you could,

and all you needed

was the help of

a little medicine.

An escape from death.

At home

you found a way of

surrendering yourself

when nobody thought

you would,

and all you needed

was the release of

a few pills.

An escape to death.

Spend late nights

mindlessly watching Youtube videos

on things I care nothing about

Just so I don't have to think about you

or that awful day when I first saw you

laying peacefully in the casket

without even looking like your beautiful self.

Yet when I go to sleep, you're there

happy and smiling and laughing,

vibrant and full of life,

even when I know that you're not.

And every morning,

I have to wake up to reality,

a reality that you no longer belong to,

a cold reality without you.

And every thing that happens,

I want to tell you--

you were always proud of my achievements

no matter how "nerdy" it was.

I cry watching movies

even though they're not sad;

I cry eating bagels

because they were your favorite;

I cry when I listen to music

because it puts my feelings into words;

I cry...

Because I miss you

I can not fully let you know my pain,

You encounter yours and i deal with mine.

You may feel the twitch down your very spine

But never could you taste its flesh,

Just like the flesh of swine.

My pain is young

So it ends up crying

rather than pretending strong,it makes me a lullaby.

How stupid it is

to make me sad,

If he’s mine

Why does he acts so mad?

Maybe he wants to feel

How it feels like to be him

A sudden agitation to fulfill his whim.

Irony is,he is to himself an unknown

He is an emotion devoid of his own.

But i want him to know

When i smile he can be in pain and cry

And when i cry he can entirely enjoy.

This is how i could help him realize

that he is never alone

Sometimes he's mine and sometimes his own.

Will you see me for who I am?

Or believe who I say I am?

Or invent who you think I am?

Or dream of who you wish I was?

Or fear who you thought I could be?

I have a future, just as I

have a past. Presently I cry,

for present is where beauty lies.

The moments rush past so quickly,

but you’re always captive to dreams.

You mask the me that I am now.

You wear a blindfold and allow

your illusion freedom. Somehow

I am the one who saves, endowed

with greatness. I am perfect?

I will always disappoint you.

Your expectations are askew,

and hide me though I’m in plain view.

The crucible born through your eyes

will be written on my soul forever.

The steps from person to person

doesn’t matter. I yet worsen

as the new is the same version

of what I left behind. I still

face the crucible from your eyes.

Parent, or be it children, they

still expect me to go “their way.”

How am I supposed to change today

to the invention they produced

through the crucible in their eyes.

I wage my war against the me

that they invented despite me.

I know it is hard to believe,

but even today, you haunt me

with the crucible of your eyes.

One more nail to go and my first ever home-made construction would be complete.

It was only a bird house, but I was so proud!

I made it myself from scratch - out of wood and instructions!

Painted to match the fence, it was done.

One more nail.

I raised the hammer and brought it down in triumph.

The nail spit through the wood.

Too big!

Like a lance

It pierced my stray finger on the other side of the wood.

Spurting blood

With a look of Frankenstein’s Monster!

I lifted my pierced finger to my face.

My knees buckled and I toppled.

The bird house broke my fall

As it smashed apart under me.

Or so they said

When I came round in the ambulance.

I believe that crying is your body overflowing with emotion so much so that in fact, it shakes and you can feel it in your chest. Words won't come out no matter how hard you fight, silence. Trying to stop but the pain grows as if a snake was tightening itself around your body. Slowly poisoning your mind, vile thoughts seeping into your mind that makes you cry out, begging for relief. Your body heaving trying to breathe, tears burn your skin like acid, you cover your mouth so that your parents cant hear you. Your body is in so much pain aching in your chest, you throw up. Your body spasms, trying to fight, your heart freezes itself to stay alive.

Who am I, to cry at lost life?

But this woman I call my mother, must she die?

I watch her suffer day in and day out

But my helplessness has set in over years faced with many doubts

My heart feels like a lacrimarium

Pain.

To watch someone suffer, whom you love so much

To see her face scrunched in agony, she attempts to eat lunch

I sit beside her, in her horror

Empathy and compassion help me do so with decorum

My soul cries out for her relief

Pain.

The many times i've cried myself to sleep

This sweet woman sits alone and weeps, night after night

How is this fair, how is this just?

I feel I'm oxidizing in place,

My metal heart begins to rust

Pain.

The end will bring the end of pain.

I don't know what hurts more,

Her words of hatred,

The ones who sided with her,

Or the apathy of those who are supposed to love me the most.

She called me all sorts of names and made accusations of the worst sort.

Her actions and words, a stake to my heart,

Those who believed them and abandoned me,

My family who dismissed me with cliche sayings,

Callously told me to move on,

And refused to belive that the person who made my life this living Hell was that cruel.

Or the therapist who waved his hands dismissively with an anxiety diagnosis,

Made fun of my annoyance about the cliche sayings that seemed invalidating,

And told me I was a kvetch (Jewish word for complainer) for venting my pain.

That itsself was a minimization of my hurt.

No wonder I discontinued therapy.

No wonder I didn't tell my family when the sister of a former friend threatened me.

No wonder others only see a person with a positive outlook.

I've become good at hiding my emotional pain.

Because indifference is just as painful as cruel words and actions.

Lonliness is a sickness that gnaws at your insides. It sinks into your skin and muscles, cutting to the bone. Dreary darkness consuming you and working at the very fabric of your self. It makes you doubt your worth. Whether your worthy of love, happiness, life. I hoped and prayed to things I didn't believe in as my circle got more and more superficial. There was always a sensation that I was a more private person, but insults would be sent my way. I was a creep, a weirdo, someone who was inherently dangerous due to nothing I had done. Maybe they could feel my unhappiness and wanted to avoid it like the plague. My self-worth was at a low and I wasn't good enough. There was no future for me. Everything I had ever done was worthless and I was never going to be enough for anyone. Not for my friends and family. Not for the people I cared about. I wanted to stop suffering. I wanted to die. It stayed with me throughout all of my thoughts like my own dark passenger. Constantly there and whispering the terrible things.

"Everyone would be better off with me gone."

"I should do it now, while my brother is still young enough to no feel the grief from my death."

"My father deserves to feel how he failed me."

"I'm a coward for not actually killing myself."

I would spend nights staring at the cabinets of pills and the razors in the drawers of the bathroom under the sink. It drove me to have breakdowns as I tried to will myself to cutting. I couldn't do it. I was a coward for not making myself feel the pain that I should be feeling. I should have felt worse, I deserved to suffer more. That was what I deserved back then. That's what I thought at least. It isn't that way as much anymore. I can bare to look in the mirror again, I have depth in my friendships. There is hope in the future, plans, goals and things to reach for. I'm not stuck in a pit with no escape. I'm climbing the stair, even if it isn't a crystal one. I am going to keep going.

I gasp.

That's all I can do.

Even that simple thing, coming from the pain, it causes more.

I can't keep my eyes open, but the moving of my lids causes a headache.

The spasms shake me, my chest and stomache burning with acid that it is forced to relise.

In vomit.

I move myself upwards, to avoid the sickly stuff getting on my clean bed.

This seems to make my head split open, and I wonder how I'm still alive.

I wonder why I haven't passed out, from the pain in my head, making me see black spots.

My stomache feels no better, as though claws rake through my skin, my bones, and my whole body.

Each breath strenthens both pain, as if they were in a race to see who could kill me.

My veiw gets hazy, and I know I'm asleep.

Yet, nothing can stop the pain.

Nothing.