Nullified

A poem written on 12/16/2013

You are my beginning,

and my one true love.

I think of you all the time,

and you make me fly like a dove.

Through every bit of my pain,

you are the light beams.

Beams guiding me through my veins,

you are my dreams.

You are quite pure,

you give me a sense of the emotion "happy."

You are the cure,

to my disease making me feel so crappy.

I give you my all,

Mariah, it's you that I miss.

My one and only baby doll,

it's you I want to kiss.

I'm so cold,

I want to see you.

I want you to hold,

that's what I want to do.

I still have my insecurities and fears,

I wont lie.

Though with you I'll be happy for years,

and I will not die.

I may sigh,

and have lots of strife;

I may cry,

but you are my life.

You've nullified my insanity,

and make me smile.

You've made my dreams a reality,

and it'll be that way for awhile.

People say we are gay,

intelligence is what they lack.

At the end of the day,

we kiss each other back.

Babe, you have my heart,

you have every single part.

You are my end,

and you are my start.

Because They Told Me To

A short story written on 12/10/2013

"Why did you stab yourself?!" Alessa exclaimed.

"Because they told me to," said Skyla with a slight demonic presence in her voice.

Alessa went speachless and her eyes widened.

"Are you schizophrenic?"

"Everybody has demons... It's a matter of how powerful they are," said Skyla.

"Not everybody ha-," Alessa was cut off.

"I have monsters inside me! They never sleep!" Screamed Skyla as tears poured down her face.

Skyla lifted her arms up to grab her head in agony, and as she did, her sleeves fell down, and you could see her crimson stained wrists.

Alessa panicked at the sight of Skyla. She had never seen Skyla like this before. She thought Skyla was "normal" and not so fucked up in the head. She never predicted that Skyla would cut herself. Skyla always dressed so cute and Lolita like and acted sane at school. This was a side of Skyla Alessa never knew existed. A side she never wanted to see.

"I can't take it anymore!" Shrieked Skyla.

Tears were just falling off her pale white face like a heavy waterfall. They appeared as if they would never stop.

Alessa had no idea what to do. So, she did the worst thing ever, she left Skyla without another word.

This hurt Skyla and made her demons grow. It made all the hurt and pain grow, and then she just snapped. Skyla grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and wrote a suicide note. It read:

"Sorry for the mess."

She then carved into her thigh:

"Bruises are flowers

that bloom where the pain lingers

and wilts as it fades."

She popped 80 pills, 10 different kinds of pills. There was Vicodin, Ibuprofen, Tylenol, Tramadol, Vitamin A, Lamictal, Zoloft, Oxicodon, Gabapenten, and Lithium.

Her organs began to fail, and her stomach bled. She coughed up blood, and as she was dying she took that bloody razor to every inch of her flesh one last time. She bled out and grew woozy. She threw up multiple times and couldn't stop coughing up blood. Her body couldn't handle the massive overdose, but that's what she intended it to do. She meant to die. She couldn't handle life with her demons any longer. She died in agony along with her demons. She was 14 years old.

Her friend Alessa felt extremely guilty because she left Skyla alone. She couldn't deal with the pain and guilt of Skyla's death so she too killed herself. She was 16 years old. She shot herself in the head, and when she was found in her blood covered room there was a note that read:

"I killed Skyla Winters." 

NUMB3RS

A poem written on 11/02/2013

While I'm running a mile,

I feel like I'm dying.

I have no smile,

and soon I'll be crying.

Tonight i'm going to skip dinner,

for it's me that Ana owns.

I'll wake up thinner,

and what'll start to show is my bones.

At school I'll say "I'm fine,"

even though I'm always in pain.

So nobody sees a single sign,

so it wont be weight I gain.

I'll go to bed at night,

wondering tomorrows number on the scale.

When I awake I'll feel fright,

and when I step on the scale I'll turn pale.

That voice in my head,

reminding me that I'm fat.

Wanting to go to bed,

but can't due to the fat.

Constantly cold,

and cutting up my thighs.

Never bold,

and covering up with lies.

I always give away my food,

because of all my fears.

I'm always in a shitty mood,

with my cuts, fat, and tears.

Savage

A poem written on 11/01/2013

I'm shaking because I'm cold,

now a feeling that's quite old.

"You'll get skinnier," I was told,

now with Ana and nobody to hold.

If I binge then I shall starve,

and draw in red upon my thigh.

On my thigh I will carve,

"You fucking fatass, just die!"

When I get a hunger urge,

If I give in...

I will purge,

and then get an estatic surge.

I don't want to eat,

and beat myself up with a bat.

I'm Vegan, no animal products, no meat,

and I refuse to be fat.

It causes me pain,

but to be thin I don't care.

It's weight I don't want to gain,

all day and night, it's what I think about with fright.

As Pretty As A Pearl

A poem written on 10/29/2013

There was a 16 year old girl,

who drew in red on her wrists.

That wished to be as pretty as a pearl,

and believes when she dies she wont be missed.

She hates her entire body,

and pursues weight-loss.

Blinded by bodies so godly,

that she can't see past the moss.

Constantly reminded that she's fat,

and frequently crying.

Contemplating grabbing her fathers gadt,

to send herself to the state of dying.

"I'm okay..."

A poem written on 08/18/2013

Depression coursing through my veins,

and self-harm filling my head.

Severe famished pains,

while anxiety pins me to my bed.

"I'm okay," is what I said,

when really I'm dying.

Feeling like I'm dead,

and forever crying.

"I'm okay," is what I'll say,

even through all the tears.

That's what I'll say all day,

because of all my fears.

I don't want to gain weight,

I don't want to be fat.

That only fuels my self-image hate,

like the jiggle on my stomach with a pat.

"I'm okay," is what I'll say,

when really I feel like I'm dying.

"I'm okay," is a lie each day,

but to stay thin I keep lying.

Eat Away My Pains

A poem written on 04/22/2013

I'm so psychotic,

in my pitiful insanity.

So patriotic,

and departed from reality.

I feel so alone,

but looking into the mirror I see a clone.

My reflection is an alive drone,

now I know I'm not alone.

It talks to me,

and I talk back.

It's all I have and see,

real friends is what I lack.

I want to be apart of reality,

a dream coursing through my veins.

I want to be associated with humanity,

and have it eat away my pains.

I can't let go of my fears,

and all those agonizing years.

I can't wipe my tears,

but I can pull the trigger.

Skin And Bones

A poem written on 04/20/2013

Inside the back of my head,

inside there is a voice.

I feel like I'm dead,

and there's not even a spark of Joyce.

I'm so weak and fragile,

hungry and pale.

I've been starving for awhile,

hoping to eventually live a fairy tale.

I'm turning into skin and bones,

as I continue losing weight.

You can start to see my cheekbones,

but what doesn't change is my self-image hate.

I have a thinspiration,

mine is personal.

I give it such admiration,

that it makes me very emotional.

On the rare times that I eat,

I start to feel extremely guilty.

I mentally get beat,

with every bit of cruelty.

Every time I look into the wretched mirror,

all I see is loads of fat.

I know I'm skinnier with each look in the mirror,

but I'm never skinny enough.

Prelude To A Calamitous Story

A poem written on 03/06/2013

This is my prelude to a calamitous story,

one about a young girl who's abused.

She's very discombobulated,

and is exhausted from being used.

She feels so alone,

like a file she's confidential.

It's to the point she'd like a clone,

so it's not just her possessions that are sentimental.

She's wants a friend that will stay,

one who will understand.

A friend who wont run away,

one that will understand...

Even though inside she screams for help;

she replies with "fine,"

when people ask "how are you,"

because she feels nobody sees a single sign.

In solitude she grabs a knife,

making loads of cuts.

She wants to end her life,

she wants to spill her guts.

She feels like a flawed specimen,

and feels very worthless.

She feels as if shes stealing others Oxygen,

and she feels unwanted.

When she takes her last breath of air,

she'll take Death's hand.

She'll be gone and wont care,

because she always felt so lugubrious.