free verse
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She was chasing a high to feel alive Because all she felt was dead inside There was no more left for her to give There was no more blood for her to bleed. She promised that there was no method to her insanity. There were no meds, no drugs, no cures to fulfill her needs.
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A man said to me Memory stuff will haunt you I said, will it cease?
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Who really listens to jazz music? I would love to know. Sat in a coffe shop listening to jazz. I’m curious if people hear the music or if it just turns to static. Or worse Silence. Silence is the worst. It takes up so much space. I feel the silence with every inhale and exhale.
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I hear the church bell tolling. I hear school children screaming. It must be time t0 wake up. It can’t be morning already. I just went to sleep. I have this stupid grin on my face. This is new. It must be him. How can a conversation flow so smoothly? It was so effortless. It
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Imperfect (written October 20th, 2015) For as long as I can remember, I have chased the idea of perfection. I don’t know from where this idea came. It’s been a part of me for so long that I no longer know what I am chasing. It’s become a phantom that I cannot see. I know
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I was named after the strongest women that my father knew. Two forces worked their way through my veins. Two storms that could never be quieted. The ghost of one began to slowly break through my skin. I had been marked. There is no way to shake the weight of the dead from my skin.
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Dancing to the beat of my own drum. Singing the words to songs never written down. I long for the day that the world stops spinning out of control. There is no end to this madness. Only a girl and the songs inside her bones. Hoping one day that they’d break so that those songs
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recovery is a tricky word for me. it means that i am no longer the person that I was. isn’t this what I wanted? i don’t know who I am without my demons. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t battling something. what do I do without something to fight against? when does I
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I don’t know what’s more twisted, my dear. The fact that I let you go Or The fact that you keep coming back. Maybe I’m the one that returns But Only in moments of weakness Like This one.
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I am not as strong. I have to be sure. To describe my feelings Toward you. Dear future me, you’ve got a storm coming.
Trapped In The Margins 