crysten

[crysten]

i held up the sign

"i need help"

but people passed me looking scared

was it my appearance?

what do you want me to wear?

but why should that matter when all i need is help?

i was sitting crying holding the sign

no one stopped to read what it said

and it made me feel like i was already dead

because no one noticed me

no one helped me

i started to walk around looking for someone who wanted to help

but they all walked away from me

people were bumping into me without apologizing

so now i feel like hiding

was it my handwriting that made it look fake?

should i get it printed first then come back another day?

but all i want is help so why does it matter?

anyway

i knocked on doors but no one answered

i screamed and everyone suddenly cared

i begged and they all looked scared

suddenly i open my eyes and im inside a cell

next to me might be a murderer but how could i tell

i yell and say

"i need help"

but they shushed me and left

i looked around and we all looked the same

was it what we looked like that made you want to throw us away?

[crysten]

its hitting me hard today;

the fact that itll probably never be the same

i wont cry about things you say,

i wont have a random surge of panic just because you said my name,

i wont receive your stupid updates

but honestly,

its okay

half of the time it felt uncomfortable

the other half it felt misplaced

like you belonged to another -

someone who liked saying your name

we werent even meant to happen,

we both knew it wasnt going to last,

but i still sent you stupid messages when i felt like we were becoming too quickly the past

it was just the way you made me laugh

and the way you made me smile

that covered every reason why we shouldnt have tried

but then again you made me feel so stupid,

you made me cry,

you made me rethink so many things in my life

and its so unfortunate that i was having a good time

youre really good at erasing problems even though they left a faded line,

and for that, ill always feel like im carrying rusted dimes

[crysten]

chat i am COOOKIIIING with these poems

[crysten]

he's so GRJSHAHEHEHA that i can't even write abt him

[crysten]

my boyfriend leaves bits of pain in my heart no matter how many times he says the words, "im sorry"

because for some reason those words just don't do it for me.

I'm sorry for my heart can't easily accept.

i need him to hand me a cupcake with love in its filling.

i need him to write me a letter explaining

his doing.

i love him,

i truly do,

but he leaves bits of tears in my eyes even after he kisses me goodbye.

but it's not like all he does is lie,

he's truthful.. and he smiles with his eyes!

what more of a man could he be?

but it still scares me every time we fight even though he's made it clear he doesn't want to leave

to be honest,

our relationship just feels flooded with uncertainty.

[crysten]

"solara, it pains me too, you know,

but i promise you it wasn't all for show."

he pleaded like a child lost

and surrounded with snow,

but it didn't matter, his excuse,

my face was already turning blue.

"solara please.

it wasn't something you did,

they were just afraid to lose."

for a second i wanted to believe him,

but my mom's lifeless eyes were staring at me like i was the villain.

"solara speak!"

he begged on his knees,

"forgive me please!"

but he was the monster who did the deed.

"i was forced!"

an excuse he always used.

"solara please!"

and suddenly my hands that were once familiar with his face,

forgot the touch of the man who called us "faith".

"you lost the game."

i spoke watching him on his knees,

still begging for mercy.

all i did was close my eyes and take a deep breath,

but when i opened them,

i saw two people dead.

[crysten]

to be/stay friends does NOT require you two to agree and have the same opinion on everything.

[crysten]

it doesn't matter how many years ago something was released, if it makes people happy, don't tell them that the fandom should die or that it's irrelevant. it's actually so disgusting how people can say that bs

[crysten]

my mirror is so used to seeing my fake smiles,

my pillow is so used to holding my tears while i continued to cry,

my phone is so used to opening the same message that makes me want to die.

my dear mother,

do i matter?

am i such an imposition

you forget i'm your daughter?

have i disappointed you so much

that you find annoyance in my laughter?

i've told you i love you so much

that my mind makes me think that's the only feeling i am allowed to feel.

but i watch my tears,

they fall in fear.

have i disappointed you again,

mother?

am i no longer your princess

because my shoes are constantly damped in the rain

because i do not follow the rules of when i was still being trained.

am i a disappoinment, mother?

my blanket has become my home,

my phone has become my friend

and you're the person i've started to dread.

[crysten]

im always the poet,

not the poem.

i always paddle,

i never enjoy.

im always an apparent riddle,

while he's just a bundle of joy.

he's too good for me,

im apparently out of his league.

he's only dating me because I'm "safe",

not because he wants to devote his life to me,

im quite literally just a phase.

i understand why he doesn't care,

but the thing is,

he never cared.

im always gonna be the artist,

never the muse.

im always gonna have to give in

for his royal guards to be amused.

[crysten]

sometimes i feel like a toy,

an item used for other people's joy.

like dolphins used for show

or tears that overflow.

the rain no longer soothes me,

it reminds me of the horror that surrounded me,

of all the torture brought up to be normal

or all the people i describe as judgmental.

i feel like a circus clown,

trying to find its way out.

like a dog in an unhappy home,

constantly trying to befriend the garden gnome.

is there a cure to this unwanted curse?

a solution to this problem i didn't wish for?

maybe a spell i can tell to fix this untruthful lore?

"she's fine" im not.

"she gets paid a whole bunch" i get tortured a lot,

is that of same value?

"she'll eventually get a statue" one made of bamboo -

the same bamboo you threw?

get these memories engraved in my soul away,

it's not something i wanted anyway.

rip me apart,

shred my whole being into pieces,

none of me is who i wanted to be.

take the horror of my past,

throw it away fast.

don't leave a single tear on my adventure book

for all my grandkids to hear.

[crysten]

"don't write about love"

they say,

but that's the only way I can

repay the love of my life by making him my muse,

repay my mother by being on the news,

repay my father by showing him the truth;

i am in love.

i think I'll write about love,

even if it's a cliché.

even if im advised to save that topic for when im at an older age.

even if it's something that makes me feel like im an animal stuck inside a cage.

i think I'll write about love,

because it makes me feel like a dove,

beautiful and free.

because it makes me wonder how hard life would be,

without you next to me.

because it reminds me of how lovely my life is,

and hopefully forever will be.

even if love hypnotizes me

to make me feel abandoned at sea,

don't you worry,

i will find myself back to shore,

next to you,

where i belong.

even if love isn't something i should talk about,

trust me,

that's the least of my concerns

for i have you,

if i feel the want to return home.

even if i die for i loved someone,

at least i die with your name tattooed in my heart,

our memories engraved along the frame of my photo,

silly jokes that only we know,

intertwined bracelets set above snow.

I'll write about love,

because it would be you i write about.

[crysten]

" You. "

Your eyes, Black as Night,

Your soul, Pure snow White,

You stand tall, Like a mountain with Height,

Your smile so Warm and Bright,

Your brave, Never fail to preform what's Right,

Your robust, Born with the lions Might,

You are such a beautiful sight.

[crysten]

through the lense of a poet

as a poet, you love

but never get returned the same amount.

and as a poet, you get asked advice,

questions regarding a silly thing called love.

as a poet, people also say you’re wise

and they think you have a great love life,

then think you’re being humble if you tell them otherwise

and through the tired, pained eyes, you just smile.

smile, because they will never know what it’s like

to write poems about someone you love

to the moon and back with all your fucking heart

only to receive rejection after opening up.

“we’ve all been there a few times,”

— fun fact: they are just trying to cheer you up,

and they secretly think you overdramatize.

so you choose to rant to a piece of parchment and your quill at night.

———————

[crysten]

society kills

tried to cover my flaws to make them like me,

bought new clothes and makeup to feel pretty,

sticked to a diet that made me skip lunch

‘cause I need to be slim to be attractive, right?

behind my green eyes, what do you see?

under my shirt the scars, you don’t notice.

you feed me lies, tell me I’m enough

but you have your fingers crossed behind

and my spirit cries, I just don’t seem to fit to society’s size

a suffocating feeling in your throat

that doesn’t let you be unique

so you mask what makes you, you

because what doesn’t fit in, society kills

———————

[crysten]

sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night and think,

"will i ever be the annabeth in a percy's story?"

will anyone ever love me enough to proudly say i am theirs?

as i sit quietly on my bed as i dread,

as tears fell off to my bed,

i think.

i'm not someone who makes time stop just by smiling,

or make people flustered just by whispering.

nor does my hair shine the way the rainbow does in the sky,

furthermore i cannot just sit still and look like all mysteries of my life are solved -

instead,

i sit,

slouching,

no more than a broken soul lies within the footsteps from my broken bones.

i think inevitably,

i rightfully don't belong with anybody.

like my life has been mended to fit into no one's,

like i am not supposed to be destined with anyone.

and so i sit and ponder,

wishing for more than wonder.

perhaps someone will appear in my life,

and feel it in their heart,

that they belong with me.

that they must stay with me

and love me

but that's probably just another thing i'm imagining,

but could it be?

i,

as in me,

the annabeth to a percy's story?

[crysten]

red wine,

shattered glass on the floor,

hint of lavender

and maybe alcohol

around her home.

a knock on the door,

her weakened body screams "help me.."

but it doesn't seem to be loud enough,

the knocking continues,

"agnes? agnes!?? it's lisa!"

her body goes unconscious

as lisa throws several punches at the door.

now it's wood all over the floor.

lisa walks into agnes' home

reeking alcohol

and noisome cologne.

the sound of her footsteps echo around the hall.

she walks on the hardwood floor

that is now stained with red wine

or what seems to be so.

a noise like a thump,

maybe a clash between glass,

it reverberated along the hall

of her beloved friends' door.

she runs in fear,

only to catch nothing but silence

and broken glass.

the window is shattered.

"agnes?" lisa's voice breaks.

a high pitched scream left the room

and no one else

was ever seen entering

what was once,

someone's home.