Teardrops.

The refreshment cold tears
Running down your face
Inch by inch
Gives
Is incredible;
All anger and sadness is able
To leave your body
At the same time
And through the same,
Harmless method.
Nobody knows that you’re crying
Unless they look at your hidden face,
Because the teardrops fall
Silently.
While looking at the ground
To hide your face
You can see them
Splattering on the floor
Through blurred vision.
And after the release is done
There is no trace of it left.

Eye-Opener.

You know what? I do feel sorry for you.
I feel sorry that you were weak enough to fall into her trap
And become her victim.
You were just what she was always looking for:
Someone with a good life,
Someone with potential,
Someone that’s too-nice,
And someone
Hoping for love.
You were stupid
And fell hopelessly in love with this fiend;
What a shame.
I sat back and watched her take advantage of you
And your poor soul;
The drugs she shoved down your throat,
And the classes she forced you to skip,
And the family and friends she lost you
Were all for her own entertainment.
She told you ridiculous, heart-wrenching lies
To hold your attention
And keep you by her side,
And only now does she speak the truth.
Only now do you all see what I saw all along:
A pathetic girl attempting to drag
Everyone above her
Down into her hell of a life.

A Fractured Life.

How long has it been now?
A month?
Two months, three months, six months?
A year?
…Two years?
It feels like it has been going on forever,
For my entire life.

And now,
Years later,
I look back
And realize
It was only a small fracture of my life
That I barely remember.
And then I manage a
Small laugh
At how big of a deal I made it
Back then.

The littlest things become
Magnified,
Causing panic,
Until reality kicks in
Years later
To show you
How silly you were being.

Asexuality.

Lies—
Simple one- or two-word lies
Told to hide
What I consider to be
My secret.
Is it always
The things that make you
Who you are
That you try
Desperately to keep hidden
From even the ones
Closest to you?

Am I still
In the closet
As long as I lie
And keep the truth to myself
Out of fear?
No, not out of fear—
Out of knowing that
My sexuality
Will destroy
All future relationships for me.
But I’m an actress;
Can’t I act like
I’m not asexual?
But
I am asexual.
Who In their right mind
Would want an asexual?
How many people
Can say they’ve dated one?
And how many
Of those people
Can honestly say
They enjoyed it?
So many of our beings
Are naturally sexual,
So why would one choose
Someone who is not at all?

Games.

I like the games
As long as
I’m in control.
Their
Fighting and struggling
To win
Amuse me
Knowing that there
Is no winner;
They’re just being used.

Before It's Gone.

One could easily
Take for granted
The beautiful view
Of mountains and
An ocean
Outside their window.
It’s only when
New, huge houses
Get built
To block the view
That it’s realized
They should have
Cherished what they had
Before it was gone.

No pictures were ever taken of it-
There were barely even any
Glances out the window
To admire the beautiful
View of nature.

Childhood Memories.

A splash
Of a memory
From my childhood
Arises while in the shower.

I cup my hands together
Underneath the falling water,
Gathering the warm water in my hands
Until it starts to overflow.
Then, with a sudden movement
I let it all go
And listen to the booming sound it makes
As it slams against the shower floor.
I gather the water
Once more in my hands,
But this time
Throw it up in the air
Like celebratory confetti
And feel it
Sprinkle back down on me.

Theivery.

In a world taken over by technology
It is not easy
To avoid and hide from
Cameras—
A popular electronic
Enjoyed by many
That are meant
To capture memories
In the form of pictures to keep forever.

“Photographers” are everywhere;
On the train, in the streets, at the beach,
Dying to get that perfect photo
Of those exotic flowers
Or that intriguing stranger.

When one with odd beliefs about cameras
Sees the unmistakable
Flash
Of a camera
Hit them like lightning,
Their whole world freezes
In a wave of panic
As they slowly turn their head
To spot the human
With the camera
Pointed directly at them.
The picture taken
Inches its way out of the camera—
It’s a Polaroid.
The victim of the photographer wishes
That with unfamiliar speed
He could
Run,
Snag the photo,
And disappear.
But instead
He just stands there,
Horrified,
As he fades away
With his soul.

Alone in the World.

Nobody will always be there for you.
No one is ever really there for you.

Don’t rely on others
Because in the end
You’re always alone.

Self Conscious

Standing in front of the mirror,
She paints on her mask
Of makeup
With the morning sun
Reaching through her window
To provide light.
She piles layers upon layers
Of clothing
On her body as well,
To take away her shape.
Every morning is the same.
She does what she can
To hide her real face and body
From the view of others
Because she’s afraid
Of what they will think,
And of the looks they would give her.
If it’s too ugly for her own eyes
That are used to it
To look at,
Then how would anybody else
Manage to look at her
Without giving her a look
Of disgust?
Whether or not
The colors match
Is unimportant;
All that matters
Is hiding
Her true self.
The level of begging
People do
To convince her
To show herself
Will never work;
She will always refuse
Until she is happy with what she sees.

Options.

vi. Raised high above the water,
I stand on a bridge.
I lean over the rail and look down,
Wondering what it would feel like
To fall all the way down.
Hesitantly, I step over the railing.
I take one look back at me,
At the people walking by—
Why don’t they tell me to stop?—
And jump.

How nice it feels
To finally be
Soaring through the sky,
With nothing
And no one
Holding me back.
There’s no going back
For me now;
This is it,
I’m free.

Options.

v. 40 minutes
Into the woods
I walk,
Following
The tracks of travel.
No thoughts
Occupy my mind;
I’m completely empty.
The whistle blows
From a distance,
So I ready myself;
One foot at a time,
I step onto the tracks
And plant myself there strongly.
When I see it
Round the corner,
I take a quick, deep, final breath
And squeeze shut my eyelids,
Preparing myself for
The impact.

The surprise comes, though,
When I don’t feel it;
Instead, I feel the train
Rush past me,
Only a foot away.
When did I jump off the tracks?

How much panic
Washed over the one
In the front of the train
When he realized
He could not stop?
How often
Does it happen?

Options.

iv. An unfamiliar place
With unfamiliar people,
Doing an unfamiliar thing.

I inch myself forward,
Past the line that says
“Do not pass this line,
For your own safety.”
I glance down the tunnel
And see the lights
Heading towards us all
With high speed.
If I timed it right,
I could jump.
But what would come first,
Electrocution
Or being hit?

And how many of these strangers’ minds
Would my suicide haunt?

Options.

iii. The fresh cuts on my wrist
Look like nothing.
Would I have the guts
To give myself
The final cut?
Watching the skin peel apart
As the blade swipes,
And watching the blood
Gush out…
I long to see
My blood pour out of my body
And create a puddle
On the tiled floor;
The idea intrigues me so greatly.
My vision would be filled
With such a lovely red
Before seeing black.

But how long would it be
Before someone
Realized what I was doing
And smashed through the door?
Would they think my
Puddle of blood
Is beautiful too,
Like I would?

Options.

ii. I sit cross-legged on my bed
With the pills scattered in front of me.
One, two, three at a time
I take them
Until the whole pile is gone.
Then I lay down
On that same bed
And wait.

The pain is great,
And the days seem to be months,
But if it’s the last thing I ever feel
Then it’s worth it.

Options.

i. The sun beats down,
Shooting rays of warmth and light
Towards me
And reflecting off the
Ocean waters
With hopeful sparkles.

But I imagine something else:
Grey clouds covering the entire sky,
Rapidly billowing to the west
With the strong gusts of wind
That I can’t escape.
The ocean stirs,
And waves crash
Everywhere around me.
Slowly, I bring my body closer
And closer
To the ice-cold salt water;
My soul is already there,
Drowning.
I ignore the fact
That I can no longer feel my body
Because of the cold
And continue walking
Until all I see is black
And the air in my lungs
Has been replaced by water.

And when my dead body
Sifts itself back onto the shore
Of that sandy beach…
And when that young girl
Screams
When she sees it…
And when her mother runs over
And sees it as well…
And when there’s a number of people
Crowded around my body,
Awaiting the arrival of an ambulance…
When I could have gone
Where no one would ever find my body…
Well, what can I say?
I like sandy beaches.