Wrote a poem

They say impaired driving kills more people than drunk driving
So when I’m flying down the highway, tears burning my eyes making the sea of oncoming headlights look more like a blurry meteor shower crashing into me
Will the accident report still read “driving while impaired”

You like me plain,
no make-up so I stopped wearing it, and pretty soon it’s the norm.
You don’t like it when I go out because you worry about me,
coffee’s bad for my health,
not really keen on my friends,
I don’t see you as much,
and eventually you’re gone
it’s just because you love me

"I would never hurt you."

The rooms spinning
I’m gonna be sick
There’s blood on the tiles
I said stop.
You wouldn’t stop
Why wouldn’t you stop

"Trust me."

No officer
I’m not drunk
But I haven’t been sober in a while
I haven’t had a clear thought since the day you walked through the door
My reaction time must be slowing down
because I’ve stopped trying to run when you hit me
I guess I’m doing the same with oncoming cars now

Spring will come,
I won’t forget you,
won’t let you leave my broken heart,
when flowers bloom, I won’t regret you,
you’re my everlasting scar

You said to me
it isn’t real
until it stings and burns,
your hands no longer on my body,
but where you touched me, it still hurts

At night you came
to pick a flower
before it saw the rising sun,
its scent is a lie, it’s a poisonous plant,
that’s how the end begun

Spring has come,
so quick and cruel,
yet beautiful to see,
I remember your face
I sleep on your grave
the one who dug it was me

—  Revenge, a poem with pretty rhymes about an ugly thing

i used to put chocolate chips on or around most things i ate 
and i used to put things in the freezer so they would get cold faster
and i used relate to things on the internet made by people who weren’t poets who were shaped from the weird parts of growing up
i used to like a lot of relatable teen posts on facebook and i always disrespected authority and i always wrote poems and i sometimes posted them on facebook and my friends said: this poem should be a relatable teen page on facebook
but it used to feel good to do things like, like. like facebook pages and write poetry and get compliments and self-publish poetry as relatable teen pages on facebook
but really, i used to walk home and sit in the mulberry tree and eat them and become sticky and globby and something blue
and people said: blue doesnt exist in nature and that thing is fucked up
and i said: for blue jays and blue eyes, for blue bugs and blue skies, the blue ocean cries
and i said: i will make those words a relatable teen facebook page when i get back home, but first! a helping of mulberries
and i always used to think of good relatable teen facebook pages while walking home from school ((they were usually  jokes about walking home from school probably
-i used to think i was psychic because once, when i was walking home from school, i looked at a squirrel and thought, “its going to get hit by a car” and it did and then i did it again for the next three days and i killed a total of four squirrels and then i tried doing it to myself by looking in the mirror and saying “bloody mary” three times but nothing happened. nothing ever happens when i will It to))
but by the time i got home, i’d always forgotten them, and i didnt care rly anymore, and i think that this poem should be a relatable teen post, i do really think that 
i do really think that about this poem
i do, really, i do really think that.

Take care of yourself
and by that I mean
I’ve watched you run 8 miles straight
and eat 4 strawberries for breakfast
and half a slice of toast for lunch (with a teaspoon of jam)
and pride yourself for being healthy

Take care of yourself
and by that I mean
I’ve watched you use the phrase “nothing is impossible” as a weapon against yourself, a driving force to attain the unattainable

Take care of yourself
and by that I mean
you got that internship you wanted and the straight A’s you desired
and I know you want a round of applause but sadly I can’t join in
I watched you pop pill after pill and never smile and wear yourself sick just to achieve your goal
and denied it when I asked why the little space under your eyes were becoming black holes

Take care of yourself
I sat and watched as you screamed in my face and got defensive when I said this
when I said “take care of yourself”
Because whatever chord those four words hit,
It hurt too much to bear
And you’d much rather be comfortable with being uncomfortable
and show everyone how wrong you think they are
Than admitting this all to yourself
And giving yourself a break

I hope you take care of yourself
Because you’ve turned yourself into a robot
Forced to oblige by numbers set by calories and pounds and inches and grade point averages and amounts of achievements and successes and wins
But can’t remember the last time you slept in
Or treated yourself to the warmth of those chocolate chip cookies made fresh and by hand
Or wrote an entry in your journal
Or had a deep soulful laugh
Or didn’t turn down a night out with the friends you had before they got tired of trying to reason with an empty being
Or even considered getting help (because you are human yet strive to be spotless like an unboxed doll)
but please
because I can’t force you, only hope for you
take care of yourself

—  n.c. "Take Care of Yourself"

Dear math teacher,
I’m sorry I didn’t do my homework.
I was busy last night fighting off the demons that made a home inside my head.

Dear English teacher,
I’m sorry my essay wasn’t done.
I was preoccupied last night, trying to eat my dinner without having my third mental breakdown that day.

Dear history teacher,
I’m sorry I fell asleep in class.
I was up all night trying to decide whether or not there was still a point in staying alive.

Dear school system,
I’m sorry that I’m the one filled with so many apologies.
You should be sorry that I feel the need to apologize for my mental health.
You should be sorry for making students believe that their grades should come before their lives.
You should be sorry for your lack of education and awareness of psychological diseases.
And you owe me so many apologizes for all those fucking nights when I stayed up late to finish my homework, despite the blood pouring from my wrists.

—  I said sorry, now where are your fucking apologies? // Hannah B.