the dark circles

that traced along freckled skin

hiding underneath my eyes

imitating lurking shadows

were never caused by lack of sleep

but hatred

I walked along a tightrope

every time you opened your lips

unwoven threads

dug into my skin

callouses piling up like blankets

I used my arms as barricades

because they were the only armor that I ever knew

because you never told me that I'm beautiful

because you never taught me

how to love myself

and even now

even after you've

used up all of your tears

to cultivate a garden

along my scars

a bundle of insecurity

is still etched into my eyes

every time I look at

myself in the mirror

a bundle of insecurity

is still carved onto my skin

a reminder of my demons

a bundle of insecurity

is still resting at the

pit of my stomach

ready to bloom

How can we be friends again?

When you were the one who abandoned me.

Severing those ties so easily

Laughing and joking

At my expense

What was I to you then?

Friends?

I don't need that kind of friend.

Caution whispers quietly

Recklessness is calling you

Deep breath

Let go

Fall away from safeties grip

Submerge

Into the undertow

Never to be seen again

He hides his intentions

Wearing his face like a mask

He forces a smile and fakes a laugh

Turning his tears into watercolor he paints

To cover up the truth of the things that he hates

His secrets stored in the depths of his mind

Are corrosive and leave him feeling empty inside

Until they build up so deep

The mask cracks

And he is finally freed

If I could ever trace

The worn out contour

Of life and love, I will

Be able to say that there

Is never a new beginning

But another gear to this

Giant clock

If I could ever trace the

Worn out contour of a

Woman's shape, I will be

Able to decipher what every

Poem tried to explain

If I could ever trace the

Worn out contour of my

Own shape, I will be able

To dismantle a pack of

Spiders, thunder, rain, wind,

And ink only

If I could ever trace the

Worn out contour of my

Humble lines, there will be

Ink, blood, and love only

But if I could ever trace

The worn out contour of

Our lives themselves, I will

Be able to see that maybe,

Just maybe, they are not

Worn out at all.

DA 2014

Picture perfect family,

Hiding all the lies.

Picture perfect memories,

A band aid for the truth.

The image of a loving grandmother,

Who's important to you today?

Shadowed in a cousin's perfection.

Hidden by biased love.

The reflection of a joyful father,

My god how much you've changed.

Daddy's little girl is what people used to see,

a stranger in her eyes is now all you'll ever be.

A photo of a model family,

what people would crave to be.

But the photo is a lie,

why can't people see?

A family filled with mind games, judgement and pain,

Always being told to be strong but wait,

you're wrong unless your opinions are controlled.

What kind of people punish you for having a brain?

People supposed to love you but i guess that we can negotiate.

You're opinions are always wrong, your silence is gold.

Twenty years it took to see there wold never be a gain,

Twenty years of misery and twenty years of hate.

Twenty years to understand i'd never fit in your mould.

Sometimes you have to live life in the rain,

Your support is no longer craved when there are stories to create

and a better life without you is what is foretold.

what doesn't kill me

piles up on my

shoulders

pound by pound

beating down onto my

skin

the weight of all

the horrors I've witnessed

erodes away at my

back

turning my

skin

into dust and dirt

flakes of emotions

brushing away

with each gust of wind

what doesn't kill me

turns my

spine and bones

into wood

an infestation

of termites

crawling throughout

the crevices of my

ribcage

assisting in the

deterioration

of my

hope

1. WRITERS BLOCK!

2. Hateful People

3. Anxiety & Doubt

4. Editing

5. Do i want this to happen now... or later?

6. Killing a character off.

7. Sticking with any kind of plan.

8. This is going to be a short story! Never happens

9. Fear of judgement

10. Over analyzing if your books is going where you want it to go or if you should change pretty much everything about it, or a part, of this character, should they say it that way? All that fun stuff.

I'm adding this, after posting, because i feel it applies to this whole thing.

11. Forgetting something important you wanted to put in your book.