A Verbal Murder

At first
They were cuts.
Things I've heard before
That sting nonetheless.
But I'm used to it.
I've endured
Years of it.
Getting myself together,
Begging myself
Not to cry
That this time
He might just leave it
And let me breathe.

But this time is different.
There are still cuts
And the scars from before,
But now there are more.
They're mild,
But plentiful still.

And just when I think
You're giving me a break
The knife comes from
Behind you
And in one stab
You slashed
My skin
My heart
My hope.

And I screamed because
Anytime I was upset at you,
One thing still gave me hope.
One thing made me proud of you.
You never misgendered me.
No matter how mad or got
Or upset you got
Or disappointed or frustrated,
You would always respect
Who I was.

But instead,
You twisted the blade.
You made me lose
My pride in you
And the respect for myself.

See, I would die for you.
One might say that's not healthy,
But I wouldn't care
Because you're my big brother.

You were supposed to protect me.
You were supposed to
Keep away the thoughts that haunt me,
Keep away the bullies.
But instead,
You are one.

You could never apologize,
But I will always forgive you.
Why?
You're my big brother.
What else am I supposed to do?


10/26/19

A Different Perspective

In order to
Volunteer in video
At church,
I had to acknowledge
I am required
To report someone
Who says they are
Thinking of
Hurting themselves
Or someone else.

I had to report
My own friend.
Risking our friendship,
I still knew
What I had to do.
And now she's
Doing better.

So I understand
The requirements and
It's better to be
Safe than sorry,
But every time
I'm reported,
I end up sorry
And feel like
I need to quiet down.

I'm fine.
I promise.

I'm sorry
I said anything.
I'm sorry
I concerned you.
I hate concerning people.
It makes me feel like
I'm burdening them
When all I want to do
Is talk
And raise awareness.

See last week,
I hit report
Number ten.

I'm not the only one
Who feels this way.
There are many other
Students like me.
They just want to talk.

Or they might be suicidal,
But it's an emotion;
Not an action.

Like me,
They're receiving help,
So reporting
Does nothing.

What do you need me
To say
To convince you
I'm okay?

I understand
The obligation.
But if you're going
To report me,
Please tell me
So maybe I can
Put you
At some ease.

Now,
I 'm not
Angry,
Or upset,
Or anything
Of the like.

I just need you
To understand
A perspective
You might not hear.


9/28/19

Therapy Outside of Therapy

My poetry is my
Therapy outside of
Therapy.

I jot down my thoughts
And you call it negative.
I'm sorry my thoughts
Concern you,
But they're real.

The only way
To rid of them
Is out
On paper
Instead of out
On myself.

I've already done that,
And I don't feel like
Going back.

Fun fact:
You can be suicidal
And safe
At the same time.

It's not as severe,
It's not as often,
But it's there sometimes,
But I'm still safe.

Flowers fall apart
In the rain,
But they're
Just as healthy
The next day.


9/27/19

The Prince and His Cinderella

I'm a prisoner
In my own home.
My brother
Is the prince--
His girlfriend,
Cinderella.

She does the
Dirty work
At home,
But with him,
She's a queen.

She's the princess
And the pea
Needing silence
Every morning.
Speaking in
A normal voice
Is forbidden.

I want them gone,
Glass slippers
And all.
I thought
They'd be out
By the end
Of December,
But I guess
I was wrong.


9/25/19

Five Year Reflection

I've written so much
Over the last
Five years.

Life,
Loss,
Endings,
Beginnings,
Screaming,
Silence,
Joy,
Depression.

As I take a scroll
Down memory lane,
Emotions flood.
Then I come across one.

I almost took my life
That night.
I almost gave up
That night.
I almost gave in
That night.
It was a rough night
That night.
It was a rough life.

It is a rough life.
But I didn't
Give up.
And I can't
Give in.

I'm tired
And weak
And I've been
To hell and back.
But I'm still standing.
Even if I stumble,
And even if I fall,
I'll keep walking.


9/8/19

I Don't Know What Happened

I don't know what happened.
I just dropped.
My eyes starting to
Beg for tears
It seems like
For years
I don't know
What happened.

I don't know why
I feel this way.
No trigger was pulled.
Why does this have to be
What bipolar is like for me?

Of course my fall
Is once all my support
Is gone.
They're all home now.

But I'm left
Here in the hallway
Alone.
I don't want to talk.
There's nothing to talk about.
I just need a safe presence.
Someone who can
Treat it
Like a normal day.

I'm better
When I'm around them
Their energy
Fills me up
So high
The corners of my mouth
Rise with it.


9/4/19

I Spit Nonsense

I spit nonsense
In hopes
Someone will know
What I'm trying
To portray.

Silent screams
Displayed masks
Deathly alive
Stressful relaxation
Unmotivated productivity
Do you understand me yet?
Do I understand me yet?

Look at everyone
And see none,
Surrounded by
Someone named
No one.

See,
Recently I've been off.
Off-key
Off-verse
Off-me.

I'm broken
Or different
I don't know
What happened
But I say
Everything and
Nothing
At the same
Time.

How long
Will this last?
Will this ever
Be left in the past?

The Last Five Years

I've written so much
Over the last
Five years.

Life,
Loss,
Endings,
Beginnings,
Screaming,
Silence,
Joy,
Depression.


A I take a scroll
Down memory lane,
Emotions flood.
Then I come across one.

I almost took my life
That night.
I almost gave up
That night.
I almost gave in,
That night.
I was a rough night,
That night.
It was a rough life.

It is a rough life.
But I didn't
Give up.
And I can't
Give in.

I'm tired
I'm weak
And I've been
To hell and back,
But I'm still standing.
Even if I stumble
And even if I fall,
I'll keep walking

Three Years After The Book

Three years.

Different chair,

But same room.

Three years

Since it happened.

Different room,

Same class.

Same shared wall.

Three years

Since my first flashback—

My first time

Triggered by something

As simple and

As powerful

As a book.

The Absolutely True Diary

Of a Part-Time Indian.

A boy

Whose family struggles

With money—

A boy who struggles

With harassment.

I can’t exist

Within these walls

Without the memory

Of that book

Of the that test

In the department office.

One of my worst days.

But you see,

That book

May have saved me.

Without a diagnosis

Of PTSD,

Things could have been

Worse off

For me.

Now

I can breathe

When I think

About that book.

Now

I can function

When I see

That person.

Now

That barricade

Is broken down.

Now

I can manage

My way over.

"The Inner Web"

"We're caring."
"We're all in this together."
"We are a community"

I don't see
Complete respect
When I hear
"Retard".

I don't see
Community
When I see someone
Sitting alone.
Three thousand students
And there are still
Outcasts.

I don't see
"Rad"
When I hear
"Fag."
I'm sorry,
Am I not allowed
To say that?
Those who don't identify
Don't hear a word,
But it's wrong
For me?

Some of our
Eyes
Tongues
And lips
Are most productive
On the inter-web.

We are more connected.
We can reach out
Instantly
To another
Discreetly,
Not to bring attention
To our personal situation.

We can reach out,
Cry,
Scream,
And people
Can see us
In their feed
And speak to us.

But in the real world,
We hide behind
A mask of shadow,
Too scared
To publicly show
What's hurting us.

Behind a screen,
We can be honest.
We can see each other,
Not hidden behind
Hierarchy
And prejudice.

I don't see
"All in this together."
I see
Students crying
Behind closed doors,
Fearing face-to-face,
So they hide it--
Pretend they're fine
Until people buy it.

"Unplug by
Plugging in
For hours."
You don't understand.
I'm unplugging from
The hate
I hear,
The exclusion
I feel,
The danger
I fear.

I'm plugging into
Love and
Acceptance,
Safety and
Support.

If I unplug,
I miss joining movements,
Making a difference,
Gathering ideas
On how to make the world
A better place.

So tell me,
Is technology
So ugly?

If I Should Ever Have a Kid

I don't want you
To be on a
Constant roller coaster
And can never get off-
Only control some
Of how steep the drops get.

Hate how you look
So you restrict eating.
Counting every calorie,
Sneaking to the scale.

Have to do things repeatedly
And not know why.
1 2 3 4 5
1 2 3 4 5
1 2 3 4 5
1 2 3 4 5
1 2 3 4 5

Be distracted
And frustrated
Because you're different
From everyone else in your class.
Frustrated because you can't do
Simple things
Without taking
Twice as long
As every one else.

I don't want you
To take years
To finally feel like you're living
And not just surviving.

I want you
To be able to
Get out of bed
In the morning,
Happy,
Excited,
Ready
To start you day,
A new,
Exciting chapter
In your life.

See Them

Like salmon swimming upstream
When everyone else is
Taking the easy way
Downstream with the
Current
Currently ignorant
To the beings
Strolling past.
You see them
But don't see them

That girl
Yearns for
Approval.

That boy
Yearns
To be the
Best.

That person
Wants to feel heard,
But everyone
Strolls past them.

That girl
Feels more at home
At school
Than at home.

That boy
Seeks refuge
In distraction
In classes
From the nightmares
That are so real
Elsewhere.

That person
Feels more accepted
At school
Than anywhere else.

See the people
Strolling past.
Stop.
They need
Ease from their stress.
Please give them
Ease from their stress.

Atypical Anorexia

Another diagnosis.
But it's different.
I'm not just relieved,
But I'm scared, too.
I don't want to end up
Like too many others.
I don't want to go
Too far
And lose
My life.

I'll fight.
I know
I'll get tired
And I know
I'll slip up,
But I'll fight.
I know
I'll cry
And I know
I'll shake,
But I'll fight.

I'll fight.
If not for me,
Then for others
Who care about me.
I know
I'll gain strength
From them.

I'm tired.
Tired
Of counting
Calories.
Tired
Of sneaking
To the scale.
Tired
Of running
Beyond ability.

I'm going
To fight.
And I'm going
To win.

4:05 A.M. Thoughts

I felt nothing
Now everything
And thoughts
Won't stop
Please
Make them stop.
My tears
Won't stop
Please
Make them stop.

I'm so tired.
I'm so tired
Of fighting
And going
Nowhere.

The thoughts creep in
And don't hesitate.
At least a different room
Adds a delay.

But when the clock
Strikes midnight,
All hell breaks loose
And I lose control
Over my thoughts.

Beautiful Skin

I know you're hurting,
Stressed out,
Depressed.
But bruised
And sliced-up wrists
Are not the answer.
I've been there.
It's not worth it.

You feel the release,
But only for a moment.
Soon it's gone
And you crave it more
Until it controls you--
Becomes your hobby--
Your best friend.

You hide it
With long sleeves
Avoiding short tees
At all costs
Even if it costs
Your beautiful skin.

Scars are not beautiful,
Clean skin is.
I promise I tell you the truth.
So reach out
If you feel the urge
To harm your
Beautiful skin.

Constant

I can't breathe.
Waves of panic
Crashing over me
Drag me out to sea.

I can't see.
The rolling waves
Cloud my vision
There is no decision.

Nothing is clear.
Which way is up
Which way is down
I can not tell.
It's like a prison cell.

No one can hear.
My cries are drowned out
By the crashing of waves.
Still I'm told to speak louder.

This is my mind every day.
It's everything I'm too afraid to say.
My mind on constant replay
Of what went wrong each day.
From the moment I wake up,
There is no delay.

Some days are better.
Some days are worse.

There is no pause,
Only play.
I can't tell if I'm okay
Or if the devil is telling me
I'm fine on my own.
I can do this alone.
I don't need anyone but
Me, myself, and I.

"I can do all things through
Christ who strengthens me."
But some days I can't see
The blazing light in front of me.
I can't see His eyes in front of me.

Tribute to Notre Dame Cathedral

Cathedral engulfed in flames,
People are crying.
History is burning.

Horrified onlookers
Sing hymes of hope
As they watch their church
Go up in flames

The raging flames
Are relentless.
They race through the
House of hope,
Disregarding any plea.

Billowing smoke
Arises from destruction
As the spire collapses
And people scream.

But they sing
And they pray.
The only things
They can do.

They pray to a God
Brighter
Warmer
More powerful
Than the flames.

With onlookers across the globe,
What was lost
Will be restored.

Hushed

The hushed
Is a privilege
Underappreciated.

The park is empty
Except me
And rustling leaves
Dangling on trees.
Thoughts pass
Like cars
Hovering across
A street

My bedroom is empty
Except me
And cars
Rushing across
A street.
Thoughts pass
Like students
Rushing
To their
Next class.

The hall is empty
Except me
And students
Reaching
Their designated
Classrooms.
Thoughts pass
Like clouds
Whispy
Across the
Sky.

Palm Sunday

Fulfilled each prophesy,
He humbly arrived
On a donkey's colt,
Layered with coats.

Garments and
Branches of Palm trees
Were set before
The majesty
Of the Heavens.

Pharisees desired
Silence from
His disciples;
He said if they
Were silenced
In their place
The stones
Would cry out.

"Teacher"
"Blessed
"Lord"
"Son of David"
"King of Israel"
"Hosanna in the Highest!"

Writing Is My Power

I might write
Like I don't know
How to speak.
But I do know how.
I can if I have something
Important to voice.

But writing is different.
It's power on a page.
Expressing the inexpressible,
Speaking the unspeakable,
Changing unchangeable minds,
It's like nothing else.

It's a silent power.
More force than
A black hole,
More gentle
Than a rocking chair,
More dangerous
Than a gamma ray,
More safe
Than a heavy blanket,
Brighter than
A thousand stars,
Darker than
The absence
Of everything.

Horrific beauty,
Didactic meaninglessness,
Kind cruelty,
Constructive destruction,
Emerging as
Simple chaos.

Word Storm

My words
Are lightning
Stretching
To every corner
Of there sky.
But if you don't listen,
It's gone.

The thunder clap
Alerts you
You missed something
Incredible.
A work of art
Unable to be replicated.

The storm
Is overwhelming
People hide.
They don't want
To hear
Or see
A work so powerful.

They cower
At the sight
Of rain.
They cower
At the risk
Something stronger
Is brewing.

It's me.
It's my writing.

But they'll never know this
Because they hid.

Written Art Speaks

You might not
Hear me speak
But my writings
Speak for me.
I might be too quiet
For you to hear me.
But my writings,
They are screaming.

I might write
Better than I speak,
But don't get me wrong.
I am speaking words
Which flow through my
Fingertips
And onto my paper
To arrange themselves
Into an art
Only those who listen
Can hear.

"Speak Up"

"Speak up."
"Project."
"Own your voice."

That's harder than it seems
You see.
My voice was
Robbed from me
When I was
Too young
Too weak
To fight back.

I scream all the time,
You just can't hear it.

Hear me!
I want you to hear me!
But I can't
Do my part
No matter how hard
I might try!

I want to understand
This material,
But I can't!
I'm trying so hard,
But I can't!
Help me!
Please!

I can plea
All I want.
I can scream
All I want.
I've written
About my screams
And pleas
Countless times.
But it doesn't matter.

Writing can communicate...
Sometimes.
But everyone
Only listens to
The noise
And not the quiet.

I'm lucky
If I can mutter words
And they are heard.

"It's to prepare you
For college,"
They say.
But I'm in high school.
I want to experience
High school.
Not college
Before I step foot in one.

Trigonometry

It looks like I'm doing alright,
But I've trained myself to display that.
I'm drowning in proofs,
Doing anything
I can
To keep pushing through.

A fresh start sounded great.
Start from the basics
Work your way up
...except for Algebra
And fractions,
Two of the things
I've struggled through.

I get a proof right on my own
Once in a blue moon.
But when I struggle,
I'd keep my hand raised,
Constantly struggling.

I work hard.
Finally gave myself a break
Last week
For the first time
In a lifetime.

Or maybe it was
To take a break
From not understanding
Basic Algebra,
From what was embarrassment
Becoming shame.

Assessment tomorrow
Field trip first.
No break in my day,
A moment for me
To breathe
And just be.

I don't want the next test
To end up
Like the last test.

Proofs are like driving,
Except I feel like
I keep driving into a tree.

Winter Blanket

Slick ice glimmers,
Blankets the snow
Beneath.

Crystals randomly
Specifically placed
Bubbles
Frozen before
They could arise

Cars pass,
People trample
With their
Four-legged friends
At their side.
None stop.
Observe.
See the beauty
Crushed beneath
Their feet.