poems by hannah

Today I am wearing lacy black underwear
For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them.
And underneath that?
I am absolutely naked.

And I’ve got skin. Miles and miles of skin;
I’ve got skin to cover all my thoughts
like saran wrap that you can see through
to what leftovers are inside from the night before.

And despite what you might think, my skin is not rough; nor is it bullet proof.
My skin is soft, and smooth, and easily scarred.

But that doesn’t matter, right?

You don’t care about how soft my skin is.
You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark.
But what if all they do is crack open windows?
So I can see lightening through the clouds.
What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air?
What if all they reach for is a notebook or a hand to hold?

But that’s not the story you want.

You are licking your lips and baring your teeth.
Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going.
I don’t need to be the water in the well.
I don’t need to be the well.
But I’d like to not be the ground anymore.
I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in anymore.

Some girls know all the lyrics to each other’s songs.
They find harmonies in their laughter.
Their linked elbows echo in tune.

What if I can’t hum on key?
What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?
Some people can recognize a tree,
A front yard, and know they’ve made it home.
How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking?

How long before I’m lost for good.
It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning.
It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.
But I keep swallowing what I thought was air.

I keep finding stones tied to my feet.

—  Hannah Baker (Thirteen Reasons Why)
Today I am wearing lacy black underwear
For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them
And underneath that
I am absolutely naked
And I’ve got skin
Miles and miles of skin
I’ve got skin to cover all my toughts like Saran Wrap
That you can see through to what leftovers are inside from the night before
And despite what you might think My skin is soft
And smooth
And easily scarred
But that doesn’t matter, right?
You don’t care about how soft my skin is
You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark
But what if all they do is crack open windows?
So I can see lightning through the clouds?
What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb
For a taste of fresher air?
What if all they reach for is a notebook to scribble if not a hand to hold?
But that’s not the story you want
You are licking your lips and baring your teeth
Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going in
I don’t need to be the water in the well
I don’t need to be the well
But i’d like to not be the ground anymore
I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in
—  Hannah Baker, Thirteen Reasons Why

“Today I am wearing lacy black underwear

For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them.

And underneath that?

I am absolutely naked.

And I’ve got skin. Miles and miles of skin;

I’ve got skin to cover all my thoughts

like saran wrap that you can see through

to what leftovers are inside from the night before.

And despite what you might think, my skin is not rough; nor is it bullet proof.

My skin is soft, and smooth, and easily scarred.

But that doesn’t matter, right?

You don’t care about how soft my skin is.

You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark.

But what if all they do is crack open windows?

So I can see lightening through the clouds.

What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air?

What if all they reach for is a notebook or a hand to hold?

But that’s not the story you want.

You are licking your lips and baring your teeth.

Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going.

I don’t need to be the water in the well.

I don’t need to be the well.

But I’d like to not be the ground anymore.

I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in anymore.

Some girls know all the lyrics to each other’s songs.

They find harmonies in their laughter.

Their linked elbows echo in tune.

What if I can’t hum on key?

What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?

Some people can recognize a tree,

A front yard, and know they’ve made it home.

How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking?

How long before I’m lost for good.

It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning.

It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.

But I keep swallowing what I thought was air.

I keep finding stones tied to my feet.”

-Hannah Baker, 13 Reason’s Why

—  13 Reasons Why
Hannah Baker's Poem

Today I am wearing lacy black underwear

For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them.

And underneath that?

I am absolutely naked.

And I’ve got skin. Miles and miles of skin;

I’ve got skin to cover all my thoughts

like saran wrap that you can see through

to what leftovers are inside from the night before.

And despite what you might think, my skin is not rough; nor is it bullet proof.

My skin is soft, and smooth, and easily scarred.

But that doesn’t matter, right?

You don’t care about how soft my skin is.

You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark.

But what if all they do is crack open windows?

So I can see lightening through the clouds.

What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air?

What if all they reach for is a notebook or a hand to hold?

But that’s not the story you want.

You are licking your lips and baring your teeth.

Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going.

I don’t need to be the water in the well.

I don’t need to be the well.

But I’d like to not be the ground anymore.

I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in anymore.

Some girls know all the lyrics to each other’s songs.

They find harmonies in their laughter.

Their linked elbows echo in tune.

What if I can’t hum on key?

What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?

Some people can recognize a tree,

A front yard, and know they’ve made it home.

How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking?

How long before I’m lost for good.

It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning.

It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.

But I keep swallowing what I thought was air.

I keep finding stones tied to my feet.

- Hannah Baker, 13 Reasons Why

Today I am wearing lacy black underwear
For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them.
And underneath that?
I am absolutely naked.
And I’ve got skin. Miles and miles of skin;
I’ve got skin to cover all my thoughts
like saran wrap that you can see through
to what leftovers are inside from the night before.
And despite what you might think, my skin is not rough; nor is it bullet proof.
My skin is soft, and smooth, and easily scarred.
But that doesn’t matter, right?
You don’t care about how soft my skin is.
You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark.

But what if all they do is crack open windows?
So I can see lightening through the clouds.
What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air?
What if all they reach for is a notebook or a hand to hold?
But that’s not the story you want.
You are licking your lips and baring your teeth.

Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going.
I don’t need to be the water in the well.
I don’t need to be the well.
But I’d like to not be the ground anymore.
I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in anymore.

Some girls know all the lyrics to each other’s songs.
They find harmonies in their laughter.
Their linked elbows echo in tune.
What if I can’t hum on key?
What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?

Some people can recognize a tree,
A front yard, and know they’ve made it home.
How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking?
How long before I’m lost for good.
It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning.
It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.
But I keep swallowing what I thought was air.
I keep finding stones tied to my feet

—  Hannah Baker, 13 reasons why

“Today I am wearing lacy black underwear

For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them.

And underneath that?

I am absolutely naked.

And I’ve got skin. Miles and miles of skin;

I’ve got skin to cover all my thoughts

like saran wrap that you can see through

to what leftovers are inside from the night before.

And despite what you might think, my skin is not rough; nor is it bullet proof.

My skin is soft, and smooth, and easily scarred.

But that doesn’t matter, right?

You don’t care about how soft my skin is.

You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark.

But what if all they do is crack open windows?

So I can see lightening through the clouds.

What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air?

What if all they reach for is a notebook or a hand to hold?

But that’s not the story you want.

You are licking your lips and baring your teeth.

Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going.

I don’t need to be the water in the well.

I don’t need to be the well.

But I’d like to not be the ground anymore.

I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in anymore.

Some girls know all the lyrics to each other’s songs.

They find harmonies in their laughter.

Their linked elbows echo in tune.

What if I can’t hum on key?

What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?

Some people can recognize a tree,

A front yard, and know they’ve made it home.

How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking?

How long before I’m lost for good.

It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning.

It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.

But I keep swallowing what I thought was air.

I keep finding stones tied to my feet.”

-Hannah Baker, 13 Reason’s Why

Today I am wearing lacy black underwear
For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them.
And underneath that?
I am absolutely naked.
And I’ve got skin. Miles and miles of skin;
I’ve got skin to cover all my thoughts
like saran wrap that you can see through
to what leftovers are inside from the night before.
And despite what you might think, my skin is not rough; nor is it bullet proof.
My skin is soft, and smooth, and easily scarred.
But that doesn’t matter, right?
You don’t care about how soft my skin is.
You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark.

But what if all they do is crack open windows?
So I can see lightening through the clouds.
What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air?
What if all they reach for is a notebook or a hand to hold?
But that’s not the story you want.
You are licking your lips and baring your teeth.

Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going.
I don’t need to be the water in the well.
I don’t need to be the well.
But I’d like to not be the ground anymore.
I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in anymore.

Some girls know all the lyrics to each other’s songs.
They find harmonies in their laughter.
Their linked elbows echo in tune.
What if I can’t hum on key?
What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?

Some people can recognize a tree,
A front yard, and know they’ve made it home.
How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking?
How long before I’m lost for good.
It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning.
It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.
But I keep swallowing what I thought was air.
I keep finding stones tied to my feet.

—  Hannah Baker, 13 Reasons Why


Today I am wearing lacy black underwear
For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them.
And underneath that?
I am absolutely naked.
And I’ve got skin. Miles and miles of skin;
I’ve got skin to cover all my thoughts
like saran wrap that you can see through
to what leftovers are inside from the night before.
And despite what you might think, my skin is not rough; nor is it bullet proof.
My skin is soft, and smooth, and easily scarred.
But that doesn’t matter, right?
You don’t care about how soft my skin is.
You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark.
But what if all they do is crack open windows?
So I can see lightening through the clouds.
What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air?
What if all they reach for is a notebook or a hand to hold?
But that’s not the story you want.
You are licking your lips and baring your teeth.
Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going.
I don’t need to be the water in the well.
I don’t need to be the well.
But I’d like to not be the ground anymore.
I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in anymore.
Some girls know all the lyrics to each other’s songs.
They find harmonies in their laughter.
Their linked elbows echo in tune.
What if I can’t hum on key?
What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?
Some people can recognize a tree,
A front yard, and know they’ve made it home.
How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking?
How long before I’m lost for good.
It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning.
It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.
But I keep swallowing what I thought was air.
I keep finding stones tied to my feet.

- Hannah Baker, 13 Reasons Why

Hannah's Poem

“Today I am wearing lacy black underwear

For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them.

And underneath that?

I am absolutely naked.

And I’ve got skin. Miles and miles of skin;

I’ve got skin to cover all my thoughts

like saran wrap that you can see through

to what leftovers are inside from the night before.

And despite what you might think, my skin is not rough; nor is it bullet proof.

My skin is soft, and smooth, and easily scarred.

But that doesn’t matter, right?

You don’t care about how soft my skin is.

You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark.

But what if all they do is crack open windows?

So I can see lightening through the clouds.

What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air?

What if all they reach for is a notebook or a hand to hold?

But that’s not the story you want.

You are licking your lips and baring your teeth.

Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going.

I don’t need to be the water in the well.

I don’t need to be the well.

But I’d like to not be the ground anymore.

I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in anymore.

Some girls know all the lyrics to each other’s songs.

They find harmonies in their laughter.

Their linked elbows echo in tune.

What if I can’t hum on key?

What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?

Some people can recognize a tree,

A front yard, and know they’ve made it home.

How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking?

How long before I’m lost for good.

It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning.

It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.

But I keep swallowing what I thought was air.

I keep finding stones tied to my feet.”

-Hannah Baker

Today, I am wearing lacy black underwear. For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them and underneath that I am absolutely naked and I’ve got skin, miles and miles of skin. I’ve got skin to cover all of my thoughts like saran wrap, that you can see through to what leftovers are inside from the night before. And despite what you might think, my skin is soft and smooth and easily scarred. But that doesn’t matter right? You don’t care about how soft my skin is, you just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark. But what if all they do is crack open windows so I can see lightning through the clouds. What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air.
—  Hannah Baker

if my love were an ocean,
there would be no more land.
if my love were a desert,
you would see only sand.
if my love were a star-
late at night, only light.
And if my love could grow wings,
I’d be soaring in flight.

Today I am wearing lacy black underwear
For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them.
And underneath that?
I am absolutely naked.
And I’ve got skin. Miles and miles of skin;
I’ve got skin to cover all my thoughts
like saran wrap that you can see through
to what leftovers are inside from the night before.
And despite what you might think, my skin is not rough; nor is it bullet proof.
My skin is soft, and smooth, and easily scarred.
But that doesn’t matter, right?
You don’t care about how soft my skin is.
You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark.


But what if all they do is crack open windows?
So I can see lightening through the clouds.
What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air?
What if all they reach for is a notebook or a hand to hold?
But that’s not the story you want.
You are licking your lips and baring your teeth.


Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going.
I don’t need to be the water in the well.
I don’t need to be the well.
But I’d like to not be the ground anymore.
I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in anymore.


Some girls know all the lyrics to each other’s songs.
They find harmonies in their laughter.
Their linked elbows echo in tune.
What if I can’t hum on key?
What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?


Some people can recognize a tree,
A front yard, and know they’ve made it home.
How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking?
How long before I’m lost for good.
It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning.
It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.
But I keep swallowing what I thought was air.
I keep finding stones tied to my feet.

—  Hannah Baker , 13 Reasons Why
I want the universe to understand that when I ask for the darkness, I don’t certainly mean solitude, even if I want it at the times I refuse to give in for the people who don’t understand what I’m teaching my soul from feeding a random cat in the streets, or holding a friend so tightly, ignoring the scars all over his arms from last night’s battle he had to go through again, or complimenting a girl with a short dress instead of gazing at her black knees, the way they do, you see, I want to be able to steal a kiss or two on the same sidewalk where someone had stolen an old lady’s bag earlier in daylight, then cussed at this couple holding hands like they were the biggest sinners in town, I want to graffiti an abandoned wall with my heart that has been burdening my sleeve for so long, I still didn’t decide to grow apart from it, because I care, I always want to care, in the night, I hear everything calling, that’s why I think it’s always the right time to know how to let go, to blow my hands cold, put the ache of my open wounds to sleep, I just want the universe to believe in me, infinitely, to help me make friends with the contaminated parts of my soul, maybe they aren’t as black as the darkness I ask for, and maybe the darkness isn’t black, it’s just deeper than the rest.
—  hannah-mu 

“Today I am wearing lacy black underwear
For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them.
And underneath that?
I am absolutely naked.
And I’ve got skin. Miles and miles of skin;
I’ve got skin to cover all my thoughts
like saran wrap that you can see through
to what leftovers are inside from the night before.
And despite what you might think, my skin is not rough; nor is it bullet proof.
My skin is soft, and smooth, and easily scarred.
But that doesn’t matter, right?
You don’t care about how soft my skin is.
You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark.

But what if all they do is crack open windows?
So I can see lightening through the clouds.
What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air?
What if all they reach for is a notebook or a hand to hold?
But that’s not the story you want.
You are licking your lips and baring your teeth.

Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going.
I don’t need to be the water in the well.
I don’t need to be the well.
But I’d like to not be the ground anymore.
I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in anymore.

Some girls know all the lyrics to each other’s songs.
They find harmonies in their laughter.
Their linked elbows echo in tune.
What if I can’t hum on key?
What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?

Some people can recognize a tree,
A front yard, and know they’ve made it home.
How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking?
How long before I’m lost for good.
It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning.
It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.
But I keep swallowing what I thought was air.
I keep finding stones tied to my feet.”

—  Hannah Baker, 13 Reason’s Why
-Hope
13 okom volt

Te is egy ok voltál, mint még sokan mások,
Miattatok van, hogy sírgödröt ások,
Szívtelen drodidok, mind megaláztatok,
Miattatok szólnak most a gyászdalok.
Ne higgyétek, hogy megússzátok, amit tettetek,
A tízenhárom kazetta lesz a vesztetek,
Elmondok most mindent hegyiről tövire,
Miért szúrt meg ezerszer a rózsa tövise.
Volt, hogy belém törött vagy mély sebet ejtett,
Sajnos az agyam semmit sem felejtett.
Belefáradtam, hogy mindenki átgázolt rajtam,
Hallgasd meg a kazettákat csendben s ne zajban,
Majd megtudhatod miért lefelé görbült már a félkör,
S, hogy kik miatt halt meg Hannah Baker.

Nagy Zsófia