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The Riot of Turning Pages & Moving Pens

I wrote these poems trapped inside my own mind, in a desperate attempt to tell myself who I am, and where I’ve been. When your own life is a mystery…everything hurts. And this collection of poems…hurt.

11.20.03- thirteen

I paint
I drown the Earth with my tears
Cover the Sun with my blood
Pray that I wake up someone other than me
Live a life without fear and shame
Where I am loved and not hated for my individuality
I no longer want to be persecuted for being myself

I cry myself to sleep every night
To let out my frustration and pain
Alone, where no one can see me breakdown

I have to be strong to survive the hell I exist in
The void in my heart grows larger with every breath I take
It will devour my soul and kill me inside
…or has that already happened?

10.20.04- fourteen

You’re ripping the words out of my chest
Why can’t you care?
Silence dripping from my ears
I just want you there
Emotions drying on my lips
Only lies in his voice
I’ll never say a word
And he has the choice
Pain across the line
A piercing dial tone
He hung up…again
I’ll always be alone


It hurts to smile now
There are bruises on my lips
I forgot how…
To hold on to the tips
Understanding sorrow
Tears swelling up
All again tomorrow
I swear, I’ve had enough
If I scream my feelings,
then will you hear my tears?
Or realize the pain;
My wish to be with you
And call you mine

The Riot of Turning Pages & Moving Pens- Sixteen

I am isolated in this room, windowless, closed in walls
I am drowning in the silence of words and the riot of turning pages and moving pens
All I want is the nicotine to hug my lungs and fill my head with tolerance
Escape in a stall…I never got the chance
Every minute feels like a day and I’m spending years in this place (hell)
Empty halls that fill (up) and hollow (out)
With bells that never sound quite right
I am waiting for a sound that unlocks these goddamn doors
I was already sleeping forever and dreaming of nightmares
Fuzzy visions and a pack of reds are all I pray for in this room
Where white noise is a trance
And the boards are bare from words
The computer is an enemy and I can’t remember verbs
I can’t sleep through never, my eyes will melt inside my skull
He visits me like cool breeze in the burning summer
Reminding me of a time where the breeze was all I felt

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