A Tree Who Watches Our Fateful History

I watch and watch as that’s all I can do
Having to stay here and not move
Watching those who fought together,
Now fight against each other
Battle after battle,
Watching the ground turn red,
From those who are now dead
The fighting just seemed to never end
And as more time came
It was just slain after slain
After witnessing so many battles and deaths
I felt as if I was in a loop
Having to watch the same scenario happen to these groups
Of these groups is always a leader who ascend,
One who always fights to the very end
Once this leader leaves this world,
A new one would take place
And continues this drastic chase
Not everyone was as brave as these leaders though,
As some would run away in fear,
Oh how shameful of them to disappear
When battles started to slow down
Lands were besieged, plundered, and destroyed,
This left me with a frown
But now, someone has taken the crown
A new king so kind,
Sharing his father’s treasures with those confined
A joyful gift for the poor,
How could they ask for anything more?
The new king has made a decision!
All the men are now out of prison!
What a shocking surprise,
But who’s to question the wise?
Now,
I watch and watch as that’s all I can do
Having to stay here and not move

Divorce Papers

Sometimes when one sees me,
Jaws drop,
anger arises,
And sometimes agreed looks come upon the faces,
The memories once shared vanish,
As the future memories go with it,
Lives of many crumble apart, to one day hopefully restore,
But never to what it once was.

Looking For Hope

It was a Tuesday morning
Father was driving me to school
He did this on occasion
The radio was on
After the daily songs
A trigger warning was read
And then
It was said

Depression cases for teens were not dropping
Suicide rates were skyrocketing
Day after day
I knew exactly how they felt
The want for dying
Not surviving
But I couldn’t tell anyone
Not yet, anyway
Who would believe
A second grader
They’d think I was dramatic

Sometime later
Maybe a month
Could’ve been a week
Possibly more
Potentially less
I sat at my desk
An envelope in hand
The envelope held
My emotions and thoughts
I left it on Mother’s bed

I was sent to therapist number one
She was a school counselor during the day
A therapist at night
We would talk and play
But never about
What I wanted to say
I didn’t believe
That someone my age
Could even feel
What I felt anyway

Going into sixth grade
I met therapist number two
I spilled my guts out
On day number two
How I wanted to die
How I didn’t need to survive
She helped me cope
Helped me make
My bad thoughts fade away

Later that year
Around New Year’s Day
I had just gotten
A medicine change
My mood was bad
Irritable and sad
My thoughts were coming back
And I couldn’t hold back

I was told to put my laundry away
For some reason I was pissed
I locked my door
And grabbed fluffy yarn
I finger-knitted a noose
Not very sturdy
But I thought it would work its use
I wrote a letter
I put it in an envelope
When I pulled the string
It immediately broke

Then came night
I felt really numb
Because I hadn’t told
Anyone
I went to Sister’s room
Brother was there too
I told them what had happened
Then they called Mom

Later that month
I had a doctor’s check-up
I marked it on the sheet
That I had attempted
To end my life
At some point
The doctor decided
That I would be admitted
To a psych hospital
I cried and screamed
But in the end
I packed up my things
And left to the ER
To get the help I needed

I sat in the ER room
For hours
And hours
The ugly walls
And annoying sound
This was most certainly hell
But finally
At 1 am
I was awoken from sleep
By an EMT

The ride on the ambulance
Was surprisingly pleasant
I had been obsessed with first responders
So I asked many questions
Trying to distract myself
From what was to come

Once I arrived
It was 2 am
I was interviewed
For hours
And hours
So many hours
After a check-in with the nurse
I finally got to sleep
It was 5 am
But I knew I was getting the help I needed

Those ten days
Were up and down
There were positives though
Nugget ice
My favorite cereal
Patients who had similar problems to me
But it was also very stressful
Group five times a day
Constant supervision
But I eventually got discharged

Unlike many others
I went straight back to school
It was good for a while
But then it went downhill
My thoughts came back
Big and strong
Not even therapist number two
Could keep me at bay
Sessions twice a week
And medicine changes
Then it was good
For at least a while

Seventh grade went okay
My thoughts fluctuated every day
Friendships ended
New ones were made

A friend of mine
Had problems like me
They got admitted
But they still had me
Even the next school year
After they had left the school
We kept in touch

Always there for each other
Then I got worse
My thoughts got bad
The second week of school
I had to leave early
Because I didn’t feel safe
From myself

It took months of looking
For an outpatient program
The ones that were perfect
Didn’t take our insurance
The ones that could fit
Didn’t have what I needed
But after many weeks of trying
We found one that would work
It was three times a week
For around eight weeks
That’s where I am now
And through the many ups
And downs

Life is a game I thought I could never win
But I’m slowly getting better
Learning where to place my pawns
How to detour the obstacles
And how to look for solutions
I’ve learned that I may not ever
Have a happily ever after

But after all of this
I hope to stay
I hope to be alive
For many years to come
I hope not to cause
Other people hurt
I hope to help others
Overcome their problems
But that’s not where it ends

I’m always looking for hope
It’s everywhere
Choir concerts
Birthdays
New friends
Summer camp
Hope is everywhere
And that’s what I live for
So that’s my story
A story of surviving

Nagging Itch

I get this itch
A thought that consumes all waking moments
I feel this need to create
It’s like I can smell the paint,
It smells like old kitchen oil
Yet I preserve
The stain I use smells like glow sticks
I stew in this stench
Fervently working

Crime Scene

There’s always paint on my hands
Stuck in the wrinkles of my knuckles
Embedded in my pores
A collection of mistakes
A gallery of slip ups
Smooth of velvet it leaves a trail of crumbs
A path of clues leading to one messy culprit
Caught red handed
I scrub and scrub
Yet it still remains
Staining my skin
A testimony to my work

Alien

Sometimes I wish we could trade brains
It’s not like I don’t like mine
But I get bored of the same senses
How does it feel to be another
To feel joy, feel grief as you
Why do your feet drag across the floor
Is my yellow your grey?
What is it like to trade senses

Deceptive Comeliness

Skinny waists, hard to embrace
A maze of cosmetics paints a perfect face
Flawless skin and a button nose
She was a thorn, her role model, a rose
A search for acceptance, tough to pursue
A puzzle of norms, everyone must salute
Beneath glossy pages and pixelated screens
It’s false advertisement and not what it seems
Lack of confidence, social media in control
Standards these days impossible to uphold
Pain overcomes her, a knife to her skin
Cut these imperfections and make her thin
Beauty is pain, that’s what they say
Count your calories, watch your weight
Drowned in judgment, aimed to look best
It’s all a mindset, a societal jest

Crossroads of Uncertainty

I walk on a road
Trying to find my way to reason
Go left
Or go right
I don’t know anymore
I walk on this road unsure of its destination
I go straight
Straight on the path of another, I see
Watching their movements I follow them
One step in front of the other waiting for them to see
They turn staring at me
It feels like an eternity with their eyes on me
until I realize
They’re waiting for me
I walk until I reach them at the end of the line
I walk with them side by side for what seems like forever
I walk straight at the crossroad but pause
as I realize they’ve gone right
On a different path than mine

Who made the light leave?

Who made the light leave?
Who made her step away,
and never come back?
Who pushed her back into the corner

This person,
I mean —
The one
Who took her away from the people she loves
Or used to
Love

The one who
Didn’t think about anyone else
Who lives in her nightmares
Who is without a face

Now she spreads her wings
Now she’s slipped through our fingertips

I don’t know exactly what a funeral is.
I do know how you’re supposed to act
How to cry
How to feel
How to wonder why
Which is what I’ve been doing all day

Tell me,
What else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything leave us eventually?

Tell me,
Why did you go,
And drag her with you.