I wrote two poems after two years.

1. Nostalgia

For the dark hole I dug myself into years ago.

Nostalgia

For the nights I can't remember; the nights I can't seem to fucking forget.

Nostalgia

For cold metal digging into fat fucking thighs

(mommy why are they so big?)

For the blood spilling over,

The sound drops to the floor.

Nostalgia,

To be so blatantly the sad girl I still am.

(the girl I can no longer play with because she calls me names and gets me in trouble)

To be hiding but still open to express

No one to worry about aside from yourself

Because, who cares about you?

Nostalgia for when I had nothing

For when I was no one

For when I was a living ghost

I know you are a cruel jester; playing tricks in my head;

Trying to get me to take the splintered shovel once more

To jump into cold, dark, comforting surroundings...

But I love you,

And you pulled me out kicking and screaming.

Yet please understand, placement does not change what the mind is locked on to.

I'm just as dead as when you first met me

(just more sober with a little hope)

Hope that you're right; life is worth attending

(you've waken me up for this, please don't disappoint)

Oh how I long to sleep,

How I long to distract myself from my ever looming sadness with pain

Not from the heart

Quite the opposite in fact

Holes expelling from my own self-hatred

Nostalgia

How you toy with me my love...

For something I begged to be released from.

2. Please take a minute:

A timer you constantly add to,

When counting down my last.

My life being dragged out;

Stretched.

Always a fight.

Patch me up with a couple more; it'll fade but then we can do it all again

Stop holding me up like a smiling puppet

Happily and gracefully reading the lines you've provided

How long can a stern talking to keep me off the plank?

How long can a shake keep me stable?

How long can I bend until I break?

Reach until I fall...

Take your fist out of my ass.

I'm in too deep now to go abruptly,

To take the plunge.

Guess it's time once more to quietly fade away

To count the tics and the toks this life keeps echoing

Can you be as light as a feather?

Same old, same old

Same sad routine

Slow and steady wins this race,

You know how to play

You know this dance unfortunately well.

The one thing you're sort of good at:

Self-destruction.

Do you feel clever my little one?

You should be ashamed of your horror filled mind.