Daiha Smith has everything, or, so it seems. Her dad received a promotion, and with that promotion, her family seemed to gain everything. But Daiha lost a lot in the process. Her parents are never home anymore, her sister cares more about her friends than her family, and Daiha has yet to escape the cruel remarks, evil stares, and just the mean girls at school. It seems to her that nobody cares about her anymore... Will somebody notice the self harm, the anorexia, before its too late? WARNING: triggers throughout the novel Please read with a grain of salt. This was written when I was 14, and needs extreme editing. 2014 © ele0411. All Rights Reserved Poetry : #1 [ 7 . 12 . 16 ] disclaimer: I do not own any pictures (including the cover art), videos, or lyrics (on cover) used in the story and do not claim them as my own work. credit goes to the rightful owners.

These are thoughts born under the moon's glow; when sheep has run out, and sleep's a child playing hide and seek with the mind. Some moonlit verses from a pillow-hugging girl.

Life asked Death, "Why do people love me but hate you?" and Death replied, "Because you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth." (completed) Well. Poems, if you could call them that. Just rambled and rushed night time thoughts. Some of these are thought up, some are drawn from real experiences. Extremely outdated-these poems are very old. New ones are being written in #Sorry. My apologies for the quality of this collection. Highest rank : 66 in Poetry

It's basically what the title says... I write to vent, so don't expect it all to make perfect sense.

ǁ Little folded up notes for people. ©ClaireLuna ǁ #31 12/19/15

Enter the house of horrors.

The utter most inner thoughts and feelings of one who has but no other way to express them and therefore without a pen a paper she very much may spontaneously combust in an explosion of secrets bottled up for far far too long. : )

We all are lost and surviving, a human smiles and hides the dark side of the soul but he knows how much darkness his soul is carrying. The struggle and survival is genuine and real but in the end, life goes on.

A piece of soul in ink, and unto the paper it spilled. A collection of thoughts that rhyme from a wandering mind.

to be free with your thoughts to take comfort in your mind to be as changing as the shifting sands to open your mind to light to ramble on about things unsaid to look back over the tides to understand the ramblings of your mind that is to truly write Highest Ranking: 11th in Poetry on 9/28/15