A blue circular pill, created from a scientific formula designed to take away the pain. But in all reality, it's killing me. On one side, I had the boy of my dreams. The other, the reason my life was falling apart at the seams. On the outside, it looked like I didn't care. On the inside, I was really scared. In short, I used to hush the chaos in my head. Like I said— I was addicted, restricted, and fucking conflicted.
The Little Black Book of Poems: Want and Need Are Two Different Things
You have to kill it before it kills you. Your worst enemy. Your best friend. You hate it. You love it. You can’t live with it. You can’t live without it. You want to be happy. You should be happy, but you can’t take your finger off the trigger. Why? Because want and need are two different things.
The Little Black Book of Poems: Bang
It's over. It's been over for a while now. It took a lot to delete your number; even longer to block you on Facebook. I was still holding, afraid to let go. They say it gets easier each day. I know I wake up further from what I used to be. But some days are easier than others. If I were to say I didn’t miss you —that would be a lie.
The Little Black Book of Poems: Nervous
If you knew my story, would I still have you? If you knew who I used to be, would you still love the girl I have become?
The Little Black Book of Poems: Trap Queen
She sits there quietly, laying still; but her head is spinning. Her legs are crossed; pretending— that her life isn't ending, one li(n)e at a time. High off pills and potions; Oxy has this white girl lacking emotions. Externally, she's calm and serene. Reality —she's anything but clean; when playing her favorite role as trap queen.
The Little Black Book of Poems: Donkey Kong
Psychopath. Pyromaniac. Fake laugh. Body cast. Nicotine patch. Can I make it last? You mean no. You say yes. First place? Second best. High fashion? Worst dressed. Never right. Always wrong. Trying to find my voice. But I got no song. What's up, Donkey Kong? And when I still can't get it right, I try to remember —Brad Pitt. The club. Fight. I might, just win. Fuck this life of sin.
The Little Black Book of Poems: Faith
I was walking a tightrope between my old familiar behavior, and the life I thought I wanted. Little did I know, it was leading me to death. The new unknown path promised hope, but I didn't want hope. I wanted to get high. It was a dangerous time. In spite of my wishful attempts to better myself, one part of me —obviously the more influential part, always succeeded in undermining my good intentions.
The Little Black Book of Poems: Blade
Sadness sweeps through your buzzing brain, as you count what pills are left in your stash. 19. You’d have enough for today and tomorrow, but in all reality, you needed more. Tonight though, you had other plans.