The dust bunnies danced
And the moon shone bright. The wind was a whisper On that warm spring night. All of the parents And children in bed. One teenage girl With wild thoughts in her head. Run to the city Chase her dreams and hopes. A fantasy of a new life Is how she copes. Her boyfriend of new Is on the phone. Something’s not right She knows by his tone. The cat is meowing And the dog’s sound asleep. Alone in her room The girl starts to weep. She hangs up the phone After he does, of course. Her heart is breaking He shows no remorse. She’ll teach him this time He’s not the first to do this to her. On a starry blue night Her mind starts to stir. Pills, guns, Razors or knives. So many teenage girls Have taken their lives. But she’s not like them She’s going to be bold. She’ll teach them all a lesson Her story will be told. Blood on her arms, Her clothes and the floor. Blood on the phone And blood on the door. She’d tried to call him To show him her pain. She’d changed her mind and wanted help Her efforts in vain. She hits the floor with a thud The noise goes unheard. All the parents and children And none of them stirred. The dust bunnies danced And the moon shone bright. The wind was a whisper On that warm spring night. Age 17 When shouts of anger
Screams of rage Have slaughtered Peace and laughter, I’ll be here, I’ll be unchanged. When your world’s tossed Turned upside down And your prayers fade Into a struggle to breathe, I’ll be here, I’ll be unchanged. I’m the clock on the wall That ticks Soft, Loud, softer, LOUDER. I’m the open window That lets in the storm But ensures your escape. I have the eyes of the Devil, And the heart of a child, But that’s useless to you Because you’re too dizzy to see Too bloody to feel. You’re tumbling Falling Scratching at the invisible walls That close you in And eat you alive. But in your dying moment Your last hope, I’ll be here, I’ll be unchanged. What good is this? Why should you care! Because I’m the only one. And I’ll help, All I can. Age 15 What the hell is wrong with
Me? And why the hell don’t You understand? I’m gettin' sick of this. Everything. The damn birds Chirpin' Make me want to slam The window shut so Hard the glass would Shatter so I could Slit my wrist with The pieces. Each and every Piece One by One to get Blood on every one. Isn’t it funny how Fresh Blood Is so damn Pretty to look at but the Second it dries it turns Ugly as hell and Makes you want to Bury it. Age 16 My mouth waters
To see such a deep True red. My heart skips A beat In anticipation. My hands shake Palms sweat As I prepare. My eyes focus On the flicker of one flame Amidst darkness. My muscles tense I sit up straight The time has almost come. A line at first A drop A bulge. A river trickles Into a puddle Staining all surroundings. My body relaxes My mind rejoices My soul needs not to bleed. Age 17 _A Little One’s Goodbye
Dear Mommy and Daddy, I’m sorry this will make you sad, There’s just a lot of stuff I have to tell you bad. I know how much you love me, But I know how bad of a kid I can be. I heard you guys fighting late last night, You said you didn’t know how to fix it all—well, I think I might. I know your life’s so very tough, It’s not my fault, but I make it rough. You married soon, it wasn’t wrong, Some time alone, you’ll learn to get along. I’m sort of scared, but I’ll be okay. I’m really sure; things’ll work out this way. Mommy, today in school, we learned about guns, All about how dangerous they are—how they kill little ones. Yea, those things, they’re used to kill, Now, I s’pose, I’ll tell you my will. I worked hard and put in thought, I decided I won’t ask a lot. To God, please give, my tiny spirit, I’m gonna say a prayer; I hope He’ll hear it. Please give my mind to another little one, So they’ll know never to do what I’ve done. Daddy, I’m sorry, I took your gun; it’s in my hand, I figured out just where, the bullet’ll land. I love you so much I’ll go away, I’m a good girl, but a burden if I stay. Goodbye, everybody, please forgive me, I’ve heard that Heaven’s a good place to be. Age 15 A candle in a jar
A flame in a cage Wildly independent In a man-made glass display. Dancing in a breeze Too faint for flesh to feel; It teases me, Taunting me with its freedom And beckoning me with its power. A single breath of mine Can extinguish it; Yet to reach out and touch, Just to attempt to feel its flutter Causes excruciating pain- Acute pain that lingers, A throbbing ache for hours. A pleasurable, devilish thing Is the candle in the jar. A flame in a cage, Curling and writhing, Beckoning me Tempting me to challenge this weak flesh of mine. Age 19 My eyes
Are not windows to the world, But Silent films playing continually, Sending their viewer into madness. My ears Do not allow the flow of music, But Whisper, scream threats vulgar, Till their rage fills the emptiness with painful echoes. My lips Do not taste the sweet and tender, But Sour and send blood, Pouring from the gaping hole where a mouth should be. The scents Are not those of roses or fruit, But Rotten and decaying, Turning, twisting, wrenching my stomach to a knotted mess. My skin Is not a blanket that explores the world, But A coffin filled with broken glass, Whose jagged walls are closing in. My body Is not a temple to God, But An inescapable hell, That the sinner I am made it. Age 15 _The pains of life
Stick thickly in my throat Seep into my lungs, Drowning me with The knowledge of their relentlessness, Their immortal, unceasing presence. They settle heavily into my gut, Weighing the pit of my stomach. I want to cry them out, Watch them fade in my tears. Scream them out Ripping open my heart to rid of them. I want to cut them out, Feel them drain from me In my own blood. I want to think without worry; To feel without pain. Lord, bring me Home to You, I need You, Ease the pains of life And take me Home. Age 18 _I clutch a piece of broken glass so tightly,
My fingers pale from the pressure. I push a sharp point against my skin, Looking at my wrist with glazed eyes. Prepared to pierce my skin and penetrate a vein, My life flashes before my eyes. First come happy memories: I am six and playing with our kittens; I am eight and talking to my best friend on the phone. Now the memories I dread creep in, controlling my thoughts: I hear yelling and swearing ringing in my ears; I am frightened as I watch my mother break things. I try to comfort myself: The older I get, the better I cope with these things, I learned to keep my cool, right? Wrong. I keep things bottled up inside; They are about to burst out into the open; I will finally have to deal with them--or perhaps I won't? I can feel the terrible pain as I watch, Anticipating the moment the glass will Slice into the barrier my skin creates. It's like a movie… My life flashes before my eyes, and then I die, right? Wait, there is something wrong. I realize exactly why my life flashed before my eyes so quickly. It’s not because I am about to die, No, that's not why it was so brief… It was brief because my life has been short… I am only twelve years old…still a little girl… I drop the piece of glass and weep. Not because of what I almost did… But because it isn't the first time I tried… And it won't be the last. Age 13 |
Dark Thoughts
Here's my warning- some of these poems were written at a very dark time in my life. In my youth I struggled with depression, including suicidal thoughts, and self-destructive behavior, including bulimia. If graphic descriptions are upsetting to you, you may not want to read some of these. I choose to share them because I know, sadly, others have felt the same way. I want them to find comfort in knowing they are not alone, and hope in seeing that the misery does not have to last forever. A decade ago, if someone would've described how blessed my life would be now, I would never have believed them- but it is. I am at peace and happy. I have overcome with the help of Christ- His hope & healing know no boundaries. ArchivesSubcategories
All
|