One sip, one look, one taste, one shot,

Then all I had was suddenly not,

I had everything, but didn't know,

Now here I lay, frostbitten in snow,

Wanting more at first inspired,

Left me successful, little to be desired,

Provider of my own family,

A home to which I held the key,

But then enough was not enough,

Advertised happiness actually handcuffs,

Holding me captive, leading me away,

While I smiled and paid bits more each day,

Family warned me, but I didn't listen,

New friends gripped, diamonds glisten,

Wallet stayed out, wallet lost weight,

No need to tempt me, no need for bait,

Spouse and children left, days later I discovered,

Bought a playmate to replace them, easily recovered,

I truly had more now, though not all good,

Troubles, debts, STD's, paranoid attitude,

Dreaded day came, no money to pay,

Shakes of heads, new "friends" scurried away,

Sold all belongings to get one last hit,

Needed so desperately just a little bit,

Don't recall the day I lost the house,

Laid drunken in streets, christened a louse,

No home to return to, a craving to fix,

I headed downtown, for people to trick,

Moments in between, no money to spare,

Sobering up, wondering why I was there,

I'd been happy, comfortable even,

Kids, a spouse to whom I should have cleaven,

My head fills with screaming, I realize it's my own,

Desperate to move, but I'm chilled to the bone,

This moment of clarity comes all too late,

Tears freeze in my eyes, I've accepted my fate,

As I've given up, a light shines through the haze,

An angel has come to save me from my ways,

The light draws closer, shines orange and warm,

I can just make out a figure through the battering storm,

A smile appears, but not one that seems kind,

Chills colder than the temperature run down my spine,

The glow I thought divine to get out of my rut,

Was merely the burn of a cigarette butt,

Hands grab my jacket, tattered and tore,

"You once possessed wealth, but I've always been poor"

He says with a sneer, greed shines in his eye,

"I may as well take this, for soon you'll die."

Too weak to fight, too stiff to clutch,

The lowest reason I owe them this much,

I laugh as he walks away, drifting to dream,

Jokes on him as I see light, a shimmer, a gleam.

I have so much I regret.

So much I wish I could do again

As I lie here wishing,

I see my future, past, and present.

I see light.

Then, my future calls,

And I see no more.

Last year, I had to type a story for class and a friend asked me to read it to her. She loved what I wrote and ended up sending it to a bunch of people. She later told me about a website called Prose. I signed up and started to see all these writers. I loved reading what other people came up with. The wide range in topics and emotion was amazing. I love to write and get shy to post what I write, so I dont post often.

I am a 17 year old female. I am a senior in high school. I am normally a nanny over the summer, but I don't have a real job. I have applied to almost every place in my town, but I live in a college town, and jobs are quickly taken. In 3 years, I hope to be in college studying sociology.

I write because it is my way of expressing emotion. Writing, to me, is something I feel free with. It is freedom. It is an escape from everything going on in the world. It is a place where I am what I want to be. Your paper is your friend that is there to listen with the pencil being your words. Whenever you share what you write, it becomes your voice, and that is freedom.

I am broken and tired from the mountain of life I have treked upon

The road is rocky and the end is fatal

My bones have withered

And my heart is brittled

I have aged

My eyes have gone gray

My fingers have curved into the soil

And implanted my soul at the end of the line

I gave out

And sink into the shame

And I scream out Help

I couldnt walk this mountain anymore

So I take a deep breath

And etch my headstone

And write my script

I was so strong

But I couldnt swallow the tears anymore

I couldnt cry even if i wanted to cry

Because I was saving my last tears for my funeral

Because no one would be able to mourn my death

Because i am the only one who could bear the pain of staying

They all promised they would stay each season

Even the fragile falls

And the winter wills

And the spring songs of rain

And the summer swirls of happiness

But they left each turn of the year

Sometimes even months

They made a home out

Of me

And out they went

In they came

To keep warm

I held them from the storm

But the window of my soul

Couldn't withstand the storm

That was brewing inside of me

I whisper into their ears of magic wishes

Of love and crystallized hope

But I have been ignoring the pain

And stepping up the mountain

I have been ignoring the lump in my chest

I am catching my own sickness

I think its depression again

Here I go again

Plotting my own ending

Cant decide if I am going to imagine this one

Or make it a reality

I did everything right

I igorned the thoughts

But when the night comes

And overshadows my

Shadow

The monsters of the night

Come out and prowl

Of my insecurityies

And jingle chains

And toss me food to chomp on my own bile

Of me

Knowing that I am hungry

To munch on the pain

To try get me to reason

Why I struggle

Because I deserve it …..

I thought I was happy

Because i had friends who cared

But they all left

When the frown apppeared……

I ask myself 

Every day

Is it okay

Am I okay

I tell myself

For just today

(okay, always!)

To watch what I say

I just might be

Listening

K—, whose Dad didn't want to learn my name because we'd break up eventually.

K—, who would pretend to cheat on me with T— for laughs, and leave me voicemails full of panting.

L—, who'd break up with me three times a week, and kept me enslaved to my phone.

L—, who cheated on me the first night I worked at summer camp. It'd been the longest we'd been away from each other.

T—, who gave me a sad, knowing look the night she agreed to be my girlfriend.

T—, whose ex tried to stab me with a knife. They're back together.

M—, whose first boyfriend dumped her after the first time they had sex, and kept begging for it from me.

M—, who kept hitting me when I said we would wait.

J—, whose Mom kidnapped her and brought her to New Zealand. She never saw her Dad again.

J—, whose Mom became a prostitute to pay for their apartment.

J—, telling me about the sores, the scabs, the oozing—down there.

J—, who wasn't made to live long. She made sure of that.

N—, who could die at any moment from a heart condition.

N—, who would couldn't feel anything unless it hurt.

N—, who laid in my bed, and when I wasn't around, laid in my roommate's.

S—, raped by her last boyfriend.

S—, at the hospital, because she stabbed her leg with gardening shears.

S—, describing her last boyfriend's penis with something like love.

And me. What the hell is wrong with me?

My poems are not real

     just pen marks on my palms

     glistening lips searching for another

     deep pools of turquoise eyes

     crescents of my soul

My poems are not real

     floating imperfections in halos

     tinges of colors mixed with lightning

     carved thoughts and trembling hands

     love within heartstrings

My poems are not real

     stairs of tumbling rapids

     racing without destination

     brutal partings and warm embraces

     forced tears and black tunnels

My poems are not real

     endless roads paved in water

     whirlpools of striking pain

     grains of sand on beaches

     skipped stones without weight.

My poems are not real

     swimming in wide motions

     empty train tracks

     poetry unveils my darkness

     hiding behind walls

My poems are not real

     dangling thoughts on paper

     doorway to my existence

     beckoning for you to enter

     to my world of unreality.