ToasterLove

It was easy: coming out, I mean. I’d heard horror stories, of others being disowned, shunned, laughed at, beaten and bullied. I was scared, at first. It was sort of an epiphany when I realized. Almost a joke, it seems. It was like this; “Wow, I think I really like this girl.” And that was that. Rylie was the first that I told, and the second: the girl that I liked. “You’re just a good friend.” Funny, friendzoned by the first girl I’d ever liked. Then, it was on to the rest of my friends. I told them one by one, at the moments that felt right. It felt like a breeze. Slowly, the weight on my

The smell of the fresh green grass, last cut of the season The cotton of your red stained shirt billows in the swift breeze The bark of the neighbour’s dog threatens you and echoes for blocks The grey pavement surrounds, engulfs you knocked down and laughed at too The taste of the copper blood dripping down your tear drenched chin Why did he hit me again? What did I do to make him so mad?

You jerk awake and your first instinct is to glance at the alarm clock: the glowing green digits tell you it’s 3:33 am. You feel the sweat bead down the bridge of your nose and drip off the ski-jump tip. Your eyes are heavy and you feel an intense wave of grogginess wash over you. You turn to look at your bedroom door and the crack of light from underneath is so bright it threatens to blind you. You silently wonder what woke you up so violently and you put your head back down on your pillow, focusing on your breathing: inhale … exhale … inhale. You think you hear a thump noise downstairs and you sit up, eyes wide. You list

Dear mommy, please don't hurt yourself. I need you to hold my hand. From crossing the little old gravel road To helping me find wonderland. Dear mommy, please don't hate yourself. I love the way you used to be. Happy and joyful, so filled with love Or at least that's how you seemed to me. Dear mommy, maybe I don't understand. But please don't let yourself go. I need you now more than ever, And more than you'll ever know. Dear mommy, please don't leave me. I love you.. Don't you understand? Mommy, please don't kill yourself. I still need you to hold my hand.

I like to talk to my best friends Whenever i'm feeling down. A precious lick of happiness From their sweet and lovely sound. I cry the tears of melancholy Upon their reliable shoulders A kiss among my scars As the night grows colder. A feeling of pure pulchritude As our friendship does prove true Yes, i confide in my best friend ... If only you could hear them, too.

 Let's play a game. I don't like the game we play But he says we have to. After all, I am Daddy's little girl. Don't move... I can't. I'm too sad to move. I don't like this game. But I am Daddy's little girl. There. Wasn't that nice? No, Daddy. I don't like our games... But I guess I have to Because I'm Daddy's little girl. We can play again later. I don't want to play later! I don't. Like. Our. Games. But I have to play them. Because I'm Daddy's little girl. It's fun. Isn't it? No daddy... I don't want to be Daddy's Little Girl. I'm sick of being Daddy's little girl In Daddy's world With Daddy's games. Let me grab this knif

My legs are covered in bruises And I have a scar by my left eye. I’m not allowed to smile, though And I’m not allowed to cry. I think my right arm’s broken But shh, don’t tell my dad. He doesn’t like to worry bout me When he’s already mad. I have a burn on my left wrist From when he pushed my arm Against the stove, the hot, hot stove And did a bit of harm. I have a bear, a teddy bear. He doesn’t have a name. He makes me better every time I’m feeling hurt and shame. Today, my dad came home kind of late A beer still in his hand. I closed my eyes and waited. He screamed, he shouted, and&helli