I Guess I Have No Right To Call it Trying

i feel like vomiting.

i want to scream,
but only to relive this feeling that evolves in my throat.

crying never did much good for any one.

to evolve from a well rounded girl,
one who knew what ambition meant,
one who knew where her heart lied,
where her head sat
[it was upon her shoulders,
but today it was used as a substitute soccer ball
in the 4th period P.E. class.]

into a girl of such confusion,
and such guilt;
what hormones has she been ingesting?
[well, 3 mg of drospirenone,
and 0.02 mg of ethinyl estradiol
{stabilized by betadex} once a day,
but thanks for asking]
speculation of misdemeanor
have been filter out of my
possible reasons
but change is still on the horizon
and confusion remains an
important clue to my self diagnosis.


maybe one day i shall realize
that religion was more important after all;
life was not about happiness,
it was about suffering for your sins.


for now i will remain lost,
and confused,
weighed down by things of little importance,
that, one day, i won't even be able to remember if i tried.


my nose shall run,
and my eyes will be puffy
every Monday morning as a ritual,

today marks the third week.

Down Stairs

Tonight i shall hyperventilate from inhaling to many cancer causing chemicals.
I will prepare a meal, prepackaged, precooked.

and i will think to myself
that i still need you to fight for me,
i need that drive, to fight right back for you.


tonight i will think of you
for three hours
while procrastinating homework
and crying about the beautiful songs
that i will repeatedly listen to.

hopefully i will wake up
and have no tear ducts,
hopefully i will have cried them away
in my dreams and nightmares.