Everything - written at 13

Let it all out...

Your lost screams
Your broken dreams
And Everything
that ever seemed
to mislead

Let it all out
because this will be the
Last time
You can express emotions

Since Everything you are
will soon be
stuffed inside my
tiny soundless bottle

Where no one can hear your cries
In my tiny soundless bottle
that will be carelessly tossed
Into the ocean

Where the waves will smash your being
Your emotion
Your commotion
and Everything will rest
amidst the Ocean

Until...
Your anger, rage and venom
overflows my
tiny soundless bottle

The cork will pop off,
celebrating your hatred
that will dye
the ocean red.

Red with slit veins
Red with spilt brains
Red with everything
that tops insane

The blood red bubbling contains
Your hardship
Your heartache
Your headache
that never goes away

And your voice will rise
above the cries
inside of my
tiny soundless bottle

Your voice will cry
that Everything we told you was a lie
Everything hearty has passed you by
All that is left of you is an empty sigh
And naturally you want to die

Your voice will ring
with Everything

Untitled - Written 2/22/97 (at 14)

the color of rain
is so much like
this life -
a book i never
finished reading
because the wind
kept turning pages,
closing it shut

now i know
your voice will surface
once a day or so
and i'll let sickening
sounds seep into my skin
absorb you
again
while you close
your eyes to me

the color of pain
is the shade of my eyes
(lately)
an undying ache,
eternal agony
keeps me awake
i want to die
for my sake

In a Time

I wrote this poem sometime in junior high. I'm always kind of amazed at how wise I seemed as a tween, and how naive I grew with time as denial sunk in deeper and deeper. This poem seems to track my more careless childhood and then identifies its abrupt ending and the onset of isolation, and ends on a note of numbness, which is where I ended up and am just now working to undo. I noticed from going through my junior high and high school poems including this one that I directed a lot of animosity and anger at my friends, blaming them for not identifying with my pain. Looking back, I feel more understanding towards them. They were just tweens and teenagers worried about boys, makeup, and what have you. It wasn't reasonable to expect that they could have supported me in what I was going through living in an alcoholic household. My parents or other adults in my life should have been the ones to recognize the pain I was in and provide support.

Note: I am preserving the formatting and typos of my old poems. I feel as though they were written by another person and it isn't my place to alter them in any way.

In a Time

In a time
the sun always shone
upon my happiness
I ran from nothing
and never cared

In a time
I listened to you
I never wanted to die
Until my life was through

Now I wish for an early ending
To come to me
Take me away from this
And somehow make them see

In a time
All that mattered
was pleasing you
With that hope shattered
Leaving everything blue

In a time
The days were short
My friends were real
Not lying chameleons
But now I can feel

The pain, no gain

When all that hurt was physical
And falling down
had a different meaning
All my thoughts are circling round
And where they stop is void
of feeling

The shallowness of not caring anymore
The waves are crashing a nonexistant shore