2 am

2 am can be for company,
For those who are wild, crazy and free.
2 am is also for the lonesome,
Even if their loneliness is temporary.
2 am is for the faithful,
For those who will never leave.
2 am is for the thoughtful,
For those with thoughts that won't go away.
2 am is for artwork and writing,
Exciting drives and trips to Wal-Mart.
It is for walking downtown,
When you're feeling dangerous.
It is not for those who just lay around.

I Wouldn't Change a Thing

Sitting on the floor
In a room full of color,
I think about the past,
About the life I could've had.
So many things
That could've ended better.
I'm not asking for a happily ever after,
Just a childhood a little bit less
Like a Steven King novel.

Daddy, my daddy,
Why did you have to drink?
You could've stopped,
You could've waited,
You know you're violent when drunk.
Mommy and daddy,
They threw it all away.
Couldn't break through the addiction
To save their little girls from a whole lot of pain
Even on Christmas day.

18 houses in 18 years,
Always moving around,
Never staying in one place.
Just long enough to breathe.
To get a grasp on this tornado called life,
Just to have it start back up again.

Every form of abusive
From every direction.
Scared and threatened,
Becoming courageous,
Retreating into a skin so outrageous
She doesn't even recognize her self.

But if Daddy hadn't drank,
Mommy wouldn't have left him.
She wouldn't have remarried
And they never would be moved around.
If any one of these things,
Even the fight on Christmas morning,
Hadn't gone the way it did,
She wouldn't have met her Prince Charming
And wouldn't be living happily ever after.

In a story so rare,
A miracle happened.
A nightmare became a dream,
And she moved on
To do wonderful things.

Carrot Stick or Cupcake

Carrot stick,
Cupcake,
Or nothing at all?
Today,
Will I choose healthy,
Or will I say forget it all?
I try not to let it get to me,
When people tell me I'm too skinny.
Or when others give me looks
And say I'm starting to get a belly.
I've been there before,
Where I let it all affect me.

Trying to cover up
My strange behavior with lies,
Eating food just to kill time,
Or skipping meals daily,
In hopes I'll starve myself just enough
Without losing myself completely.

I don't understand
Why people can't just accept me as I am.
If I'm healthy
And I'm happy,
Just let your opinions go unsaid
And remind me that you love me.

I am human,
I promise you I am.
I know I act as though it doesn't,
But your words just slowly kill me.
Slicing like a knife
Through every part of my being.
Just leave me alone
Or lose me completely.

The Artist

Graphite stains my fingertips,
As once again,
I return to it.
The same place I always go,
Whenever my hopes get a little low.

I put the pencil to the paper,
Lets take things slow.
No more than an hour,
But I already know.
In a week's time,
I will be left behind.
And what moves on is a different me: the artistic side.

I find comfort in knowing,
It has returned.
My form of expression,
The one I have learned.

It keeps me up all night,
I stay occupied during the day.
People start to ask themselves-
"Is she okay?"
With fingertips black,
Clothes covered in paint.
She tells them "I'm an artist"
Then whispers to herself,
"Don't you know? I'm never okay."

Some days it makes me happy,
More joyful than ever.
But I know,
Eventually,
I will slip.
I will return to that dark place.

I am an artist,
Will I ever truly be okay?

My Artwork: Sushi

My favorite food, on paper <3

A Welcome Betrayal

Lighting the last cigarette,
It always feels so familiar.
Just as stressful as the first,
Relaxing as the second,
Easy as the hundredth.

Fitting perfectly in my fingertips
I feel the betrayal in that very first kiss.
I tell myself,
I swear,
I promise,
No more after this.
This is my first last cigarette.

My second last cigarette,
I know I'll do it this time.
To break another promise to myself,
Now that would be a crime.
After just one hit,
Inhale,
Blow out...
I already miss it.
The feeling of knowing
I'm killing myself slowly...

My third last cigarette,
The third times the charm.
I know I will, I do.
This time,
I have another person to be accountable to.
And I'm telling you, my love,
I promise, this will be my last last one.

But days and months,
Then years go by.
I still see that cigarette,
Out of the corner of my eye.

Just one more first time,
Just one more betrayal.
It calls,
Beckons,
Begs me
To set it aflame.
To remind myself,
I welcomed the betrayal
Within that first kiss.

My Artwork: Lead Me to the Cross

A little over a year ago, I was in one of my creative moods, but I was lacking inspiration. So, in an effort to cure me of my "artists' block", I put in my head phones and put my phones music selection on shuffle. Sitting on my bed, sketch book and pencil in hand, I began drawing random lines. When I came to this song (Lead Me to the Cross by Hillsong United), I knew I had it- my inspiration. Music had once again cured me.