Ashes to ashes,

my lungs full of dust.

Growing from their ruins,

love wasn’t enough.

Growing in the flames,

burning all the same.

No point of bandages 

that will incinerate off.

Forced to feel.

Must wait to heal.

When the fire stops

I will try to find peace in the ashes.

My skin is painted black;

I must cleanse my body of your mistakes:

remove the poison from inside,

let go of the hate 

which fueled the flames

in order to stop the burning.

I rewrite my DNA to rid myself on them,

erase both 50s in a hundred percent.

Then what’s left of me?


And if I am nothing, am I really anything?


I am lost,

learning the truth,

and learning how alone really they left us.

“It’s okay to cry”

I stare into my eyes as the tears fall down my cheek. My crystal blue eyes gleam back at me in the mirror. My demons take root in me. “God I am so beautiful when I am in pain” I feel comfort in my hurt. A level of acceptance in my tears that I cannot form when I smile. To my eyes, my smile is nothing more than a fake picture framed for all to see. Allowing everyone else to keep their level of comfort in the idea of my contentment. In the idea that I feel something other than self hate when I see my teeth shine through my lips, in the moments where my demons like to tease me with the idea of happiness. Then they remind me of how beautiful I am when I frown. When the corners of my lips remain down… like my head… like my body in my bed. With all of these voices in my head, no I swear I am not crazy, but maybe, just maybe, I am lying. I stare into my eyes as the tears fall down my cheek. It’s okay to cry they remind me, but God forbid I crack a smile. Crack a smile and they crack the whip on the resting being of my anxiety. Now sprinting, frantic. The panic attack begins.  I stare into my eyes as the tears fall down my cheek. I realize I am no longer there. I calm. My chest is empty and my ears ring in the sound of my ending. I exhale slowly hoping it’s the last time. I breathe back in as I cry and cry and cry. I watch the tears leaving their mark on my face. Reminding me that my death is trapped in a still living body. My body the house of a lost soul which died long ago. I stare into my eyes as the tears fall down my cheek. And I stare into the face of death. Me.

“What’s wrong?’

You ask me “what’s wrong”

and I am really trying to stay strong.

But I sit around all day long

with a tornado for a mind and crypt as a bed,

with demons ripping me into pieces within my head,

and the only thing I want is to be dead.

Yes, when I touch the cool air

there is cold, but really no feelings there.

And I’ve noticed that the way I love remains unfair:

push push away,

but my soul begs you to stay.

And through these tears I admit I am afraid

because throughout the years

that I have been here

my purpose has been blurry and a little unclear.

My body rocks as my heart stops,



Then the numbness of death fills my chest

like the same feeling of what little love I have left,

the little bit of hope which makes me obsessed.


I must go.

So I drag my body, slow.

Slowly my skin scabs and bruises

and I’m content with all the blood my body loses.

I know, my words don’t seem to make much sense,

but the feeling in my body is so intense.

I’m sorry for not being okay

and I’m sorry if my love is just in your way.

And I am sorry that there’s never enough or way too much for me to say.



it’s so dark.

The air’s moist and smells of sweat,

but not a single scent of regret.

The feeling lingers

with marks and scratches from his fingers.


I, I taste blood.

But the flavor of his skin remains

in my mouth which he stole and claimed.

And I swallow,

then realize my lungs are hollow.


just breathe.

I choke down air

now that his hands aren’t there.

Now he’s gone

and I no longer have to play along.


my vision blurred.

But I still could see his face

as he threw me down into this place.

I am lost.

I was someone’s opportunity cost.


they just left.

Then I was all alone with him

and the room felt of grim.

Then it began

as he held me down with his hands.


What now?!

Forever a victim of rape.

with trauma I can’t escape.

And scars

which will never be mentioned in the memoirs.