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Literature Text
So you think you know me
You think you've got me all figured out
But you don't know what it's like
To have all this insecurity and doubt.
So you want to know what's wrong
When tears are streaming down my face
You say you want to help me
But some scars you can't erase.
You plead for me to explain
As you squeeze my trembling hand
But I don't know what to say
That will make you understand.
These fears that haunt me daily
May seem small and dumb to you
But they control my mind
And there's nothing I can do.
You tell me to get over it
To step outside my cave
But you see, I cannot comprehend
This concept of being brave.
You think you've got me all figured out
But you don't know what it's like
To have all this insecurity and doubt.
So you want to know what's wrong
When tears are streaming down my face
You say you want to help me
But some scars you can't erase.
You plead for me to explain
As you squeeze my trembling hand
But I don't know what to say
That will make you understand.
These fears that haunt me daily
May seem small and dumb to you
But they control my mind
And there's nothing I can do.
You tell me to get over it
To step outside my cave
But you see, I cannot comprehend
This concept of being brave.
Literature
Don't
Don't tell me to get over it
As though that took so little wit
Contempt in your rolling eyes
Primacy poorly disguised
Don't order me to suck it up
For I drink from a bitter cup
You ask why I can't just 'move on'
But all my forward thrust is gone
Don't say that it's just a phase,
I still can't see past this maze.
The little fissure those eyes see
A chasm meant to swallow me
Don't claim that you can empathize
It reeks of haughtiness and lies
And all your pretty banal words
Swirl around like feral birds
You seem sure that their pecking
Makes my mind so much tougher
But that which doesn't kill
Will only make me suffer
Literature
Don't Even Try
You don't need to understand me.
You don't need to bore into my eyes and look past my old, smudged lenses. Don't push your way through my murky irises of swampland hazel and throw yourself down the rabbit hole. There's no point it tip-toeing on my wire-thin nerves and crawling across blood vessels. Because once you reach my oh-so guarded brain, make your way around terrifying gun fire and through fields of barbed wire, dig your way around my mass of delusions, lies, and fog of medication; there's nothing.
At least, nothing you can understand. My brain is a jumble of computer codes and endless data, and I do not know the password. It's a jum
Literature
What they never teach you about grief
1.
You will not cry demurely in socially acceptable situations.
Instead you shall perform the walking
howl;
and cry hysterically, calm down, and cry, and calm
as you try to gather yourself on the way to the station.
2.
You will be late for work - you will see the dress you wore
last time you saw your lost one -
and you will hold it and breathe into it as if maybe just maybe
you will smell them or feel them or it will change things
and then find you cannot hold it together while wearing it,
change, and miss your train.
3.
You will find this happens over and over and you buy new things
so that they are not 'oh I wore this with
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Just a little something I wrote sometime in the past few months...let me know what you think 
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Very fluid and poetic, I adore this.