I was lost in his darkness drowning in his manipulation.
I was lost because he was a hurting soul and I thought I could help little did I know that I would be trapped.
I was lost in his begging of me to be his best friend.
I was lost in the connection that he convinced me that we had.
I was lost in his calculating nature and beastly ways.
I was lost in his proving that we could be more than friends by spoiling me to make me forget how awful of a person he was.
I was lost to his constant wanting to control me.
I was lost to his blue green eyes and trying to get him into therapy.
I was lost to recommending self-help books to him.
I was lost to him blowing up my phone with texts and memes that I didn't care for.
I was lost to him as a narcissistic man because of my empathetic soul but I didn't lose everything.
I was lost but in the end I found myself because of that I am rebuilding my world.

With it tattered and mended.
True colors revealed in its scars.
Wild rhythms and melodies.

I love the rush of Adrenaline. To feel as those I am doing something scary yet brave. To look fear in the face and give it the *******.
To feel the blood pumping through your veins at double time.
To feel a weight being lifted off your chest.
Adrenaline is the thrill that I seek because I conquered most of my fears. Why not have something that alerts you from your brain?
Go ahead call me an Adrenaline ******.

The scorching sun. Panting breath. Colorful signs. Afternoon stroll in the downtown. People walking by. Pool open kids coming in crowds. Lunchtime rush. Businesses overflowing with people.
Coffee. Smoothies. Refreshers. Anything to bring a smile to someone's face on the hot, sweat filled days. Ice cream. Snow cones. Funnel cakes. The snacks that remind me of my childhood.
Air conditioning. Conversations everywhere. People looking at their phones. Typical summer behavior.

I shouldn't have more stuff in common with an old lady than I do with someone my own age. I may be an old soul and geniuses are great to hangout with. But chasing dreams to make them a reality is hard work and makes you busy. I work twice as hard to live in this world. With my trust issues, mental illnesses and always being honest no matter who I talk to life is difficult. I have to balance everything out so my mind don't go out of whack and my heart doesn't end up a hot mess. I have back pain and short memory loss at age 21.
I am a bisexual woman so I constantly have to hide in the closet in my religious small town.

I used to chat with you behind the staircase in the back of the old sanctuary in the church.
We used to used to pray together. Now we are adults and I hardly ever see you. I hardly ever get to talk to you.
I hardly even get to know how you are doing. You were a part of me and now I don't even trust you. Did your hubris take you away from me? Was your singing career more important than our friendship?
Why did you let your biphobia reject me for who I am? Did you ever really love and care for me? People change. How are you so childish?
Our Hiding Place is still Sacred to me. What about you?
You would be nothing without me and to think you were going to be my Dr. Watson. We have a wall between us. I took down all of mine.
Why don't you trust me? You with the picture perfect family.
You the poster child for praise band. We used to be unstoppable and now we don't even know what to talk about. I tore away your mask and you are a monster behind those beautiful green eyes.
You who don't understand humanity. You weren't ever really weird to begin with you only said that to get close with me.
Your words used to mean something true and now all think about is how you betrayed me. I was a vulnerable 18 year old coming out to you and you chose to hate me. Now I never let you in because you damaged me.

I may be alone but I am not lonely.
I have a wonderful army to hangout with me, allies who respect my boundaries and enemies who refuse to challenge me.
I may be alone but I am not lonely.
I write to make sense of my galaxies. I think to make sense of reality. I know to defend myself. I am not lonely. I used to be but I am not anymore. Losing my mind with meds just tells me that I am stronger than what my doctor says I am. I was never weak to begin with. I used to pretend to be meek and stupid. I took off that mask a long time ago. I am undefeated so why do I keep sharpening my wits?
Am I bored? Maybe. Do I care? No.

My past may be tragic and I have a lot to deal with.
My split personality and manic depressive insanity is part of what makes me weird.
I grow from ashes of enemies fires because I don't repel my pain since running away doesn't help anyone including myself.
I am a lot to lose and a lot to gain. My past doesn't define me.
I focus on the future. I most importantly stay present.
I am a rebel with a fiery spirit because I rise despite the darkness that wants to destroy me.

I am alright. I have a job I love and coworkers that are amazing.
I am alright. When I work I can be myself. My boss is thinking of upping my hours since I am such a good job at work.
I am alright. Even though I am distant from my church life. I prefer my work life. I won't stop going to church but I will be working more.
I am alright. And finally I can say that honestly.
I am alright. And nothing is better than that.

Living with a split mind is like thinking of yourself through a cracked mirror. One is real and the other isn't reality. To manifest one part of yourself is to challenge reality and leave the fakeness to other people.
To live with a split mind is to think of yourself as a monster then be the sweetest person no matter how cracked the mirror is. It is always staring back at you evilly grinning.
I was terrified of myself, 2 summers ago. I didn't want to hurt anyone so I did what I do best read until my brain can't take it anymore and write until my hand cramps up. I thought I dreaming of my life in slow motion where no one could stop me.

To be a vengeful angel the story of you changes a lot telling to telling.
Hero in one story and Villain in the next. Haters and admirers galore.
I am used to the rumors and the gossip about myself. I am a legend and a myth in my small town. Popular girls wish they were half as weird as me and popular boys wish they had dated me.
I may be the sweet, quiet girl in most tales. But in other tales I am the fierce, relentless genius girl who is three steps ahead of the crowd. I will tell you as a reader some of the tales are true but it depends on who you ask. I had several nemesises over the years growing up. I also had several loyal best friends growing up. I had both the bitter and the sweet. I am still human. I am no demigod. I am just a vengeful angel with a sword as sharp as my wits. Safe to say if you cross me you won't forget where you land.

He isn't perfect. In fact he is a **** in many ways. He is the new kid at the gas station I work at. He said rumors that weren't true to my coworkers. At first my bosses believed him then everyone figured out he was wrong about me in many ways.
He assumes anything about everyone around him and everyone of my coworkers hates him for spreading rumors about me.
He picks hard battles against the kitchen manager and the store manager. He respects no one at work. He thinks everyone is against him. He forgot about manners when customers be rude to him.

He is a sweetheart to those who work hard.
He is like a brother to me.
He may be demanding, entitled and an idiot but he is a good man.
He defends my honor on multiple occasions to my boss and to customers. He listens to me. He helps me clean dishes in the kitchen.
He helps prep vegetables with me and he makes me smile on long nights. He treats me like the queen that I am.
He is trustworthy, loyal, speaks his mind and makes everyone feel seen.

Every time I was angry with the Girl with Green Eyes it was justified by the fact that she never paid attention.
Every time that I was angry with the Girl with Green Eyes she would pray for me not understand me.
Every time I was angry with the Girl with Green Eyes she would say that my cussing was ungodly.
Every time I would call out her selfishness she would forgive my rage.
Every time I would notice her avoiding people I would follow her to see if she was okay, of course she would never tell me how she really felt.
Anger is not my problem it's how she treated me that made me sense the distance between us.

The Ancient History of Anglo-Saxonism started off with the English to the French because cultures aren't the same therefore different.
Being different isn't bad and being all the same isn't good.
If everything is the same then nothing is interesting and there would be no cultures to learn from. If by Trump standards making America White Again means getting rid of diversity and new ideals because the American Dream is a fairytale. Chances of becoming a millionaire is a ratio 1 in 1,000 meaning slim to none.
Ancient History teaches us: Hubris is humanity's downfall, Small gods still have backstories, everyone have weaknesses and greed is fruitless. I am not saying conquering places is evil, I am saying ancient history means starting new chapters not repeating past mistakes.

I grew up in the church and I enjoyed most of it.
I am just sick and tired of hiding in the closet around people who have known me, my whole life.
I know they won't support me in any way because of church politics and right now I am not ready to be kicked out of my church yet.
But when I am ready to for everyone to know who I am then I will face the music.

Creative people comes in packs I know so because I am one of them. I have known so many musicians, writers, singers and painters within my lifetime. Ever since I was a kid Art has been my Lifestyle.
I was blessed with my talent and determination. I was blessed with a life where art became my home. Not my town.
I may make my songs, poems and novels in this town but I am not bound to stay here forever. I was never meant to stay here.
God wants me out of this town as much as I do I can feel it is true.
I just need a car and a driver's license. As well as a place to go to. I have plans to do more poetry readings. I mean a church friend of mine always invites me to go to poetry slams in the cities I would go but I don't have a car.
I mean I would have a panic attack on the way there but putting my works out there is worth it. I still need to call my college back so they can put my works into the paper. They could just interview me at the art walk. I don't mind. I know how important it is to have my works published. I always wanted some of my works published before I turn 25 years old. I mean being an artist in general is being fearless and expressing yourself.

To say, "Love is an art is a dream." to that of which we cannot say, "Hatred is an art form of nightmares." I don't know where in dream psychology I am referencing but I know these are the quotes I choose to live by. And I am a demiromantic bi. So I love my girl with my heart, soul and mind. Chels the Angel of my ever spreading fire within my heart.
The Art of True Love is to be selfless, self sacrificing, self loving and self confident within that relationship. Within 7 months she and I will be engaged again. I am willing to wait 2 years for her to finish her physician degree. While I get known as an local poet of my religious small town. I work with the Art Man. And I know that sounds weird but he is a really good elder of my small town. I trust him with my poems.

The art walk isn't here yet I still have 2 months until my debut performance of my poetry. According to one of the librarians I am a well known poetess in my town.
It's not my first time reading my poetry to a bunch of people. I read my poetry in the church while I was growing up. It is just my first time reading my poetry to the whole town at an art studio.
I already have most of it collected I have more poetry in my journals but I am pretty sure I don't need to read those.
Those are too personal for even me to read in public. My journals are sacred to me. I only read my past journals when I need to ground myself in reality. I have excerpts in my journals that I won't even share with my college because it's my property.
My private thoughts and life is my business not anyone else's. If I wanted people to know things about my life I will tell them the stories I keep to myself but I don't trust most people in this town. I let them talk gossip and rumors about me because I don't care what they think of me.

Everyone dies eventually.
We don't get to choose when we die. Suicide is one way of choosing death but not everyone chooses it.
There are goodbyes, eulogies, crying people, sympathies and wills to be read. Endings aren't all bad and beginnings aren't all good.
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. To dust we shall return.
I have been to so many funerals in my lifetime it's like death follows me. I used to think anyone who gets close to me will end up dead. Now I think death and grief are just part of trauma. I know it's a dark thought but it's what I believe.

Lost in your night blue eyes and how your giggles of those nights.
I remember how I trailed kisses along your light tan, soft slender body.
I remember how we cuddled. I remember how you smiled into each kiss on the lips.
I remember how your long, dark brown hair tickled my bare skin.
We still exchange smiles when I see you.
Then I remember that you are my ex-girlfriend. And I am glad you aren't mad at me.

I saw you at the coffee shop yesterday.
You were with your boyfriend.
I am glad you moved on.
You said, "I don't regret we had and would do it again."
I am glad we are still friends.
You smiled at me and I smiled back.
Your boyfriend was jealous of how you looked at me.
Thank you for defending me to your boyfriend.

As I feel like a man, every emotion is slower and is more potent.
As I feel like a man, everything changed.
As I feel like a man, I feel the responsibilities of being a man.
As I feel like a man, I feel content yet I also feel a pain in my ribs.
As I feel like a man, I feel euphoric.
As I feel like a man, everything is new yet I feel like that feeling have always been with me.
As I feel like a man, I can finally describe the peace I feel when one of my friends wants to know more about my pronouns and what I prefer. I am keeping my full name. Considering I am a gender fluid woman I am keeping both parts of me: My feminine body and my masculine heart.

As I feel like a woman, every emotion rushing towards me.
As I feel like a woman, nothing changed.
As I feel like a woman, I feel the responsibilities of being a woman.
As I feel like a woman, I feel content yet I also feel a pain in my chest.
As I feel like a woman, I can feel people staring at me wondering what gender I am.
As I feel like a woman, I know what people expect of me and I dress like a tomboy. Which they don't expect.

As we walk these paths, may we change the world.
As we walk these paths, may we change the statistics.
As we walk these paths, may we walk to freedom.
As we walk these paths, may we walk to courage.

I hope my life is interesting to all you readers.
I hope my experiences are worth thinking about.
I write these stories about my life because I needed to start somewhere. I couldn't keep them all to myself that sounds selfish of me. Especially to poets and readers like you. As an audience, I love poetically making these speeches. To the people I fell in love with, I hope it gave you my perspective. To the people I called out and roasted, I am not sorry for my rebellious writings.
My past is not up for debate and my future is what I own. My present well I am cherishing every moment of it. The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

People now a days says that, "Vibes are everything" well it's a half truth. Personality and true heart is everything because vibes are one thing but who someone really is. That's how you know.
People are complicated, messy, strange and unsure how to go through life. It's instincts that help me through life because knowing who brings out the worst in people is how I use opposite energy.
I counteract bad people's actions by taking their venom and use my actions to be the antidote.

I felt someone kissed my head when I was at Olive Garden with my siblings. It ran a chill down my spine.
I felt someone kissed the back of my neck when I was in the SGA office working on my poetry. My pulse raced against the touch.
All of this was 2 years ago. I know somehow they are the same person. I just don't know who they are. You can come out of hiding. I am not scared of you. I just want to know: why me?

Anyone else feel alone? Because I feel so distant from the life I was raised in. Maybe I was always distant from my church life I just didn't notice.
A World Alone from my church friends because I don't want to be a chasten woman.
A World Alone from my church friends because I have faith but I am openly bisexual.
A World Alone from my church friends because I already lost my virginity to a girl in college. It was a perfect night.
A World Alone from my church friends because even though I have an innocent girl act for them, at heart I am a rebel.
A World Alone from my church because I refuse to be ignorant.
A World Alone from my church friends because I prefer to marry a woman.

I am not ashamed to be a bisexual poet.
Writing is freeing and therapeutic.
Poetry is home.

Living to full potential is wonderful, a hero's journey, a villain's nightmare and a rebel's dream.
Some people don't know how so they get lost in the world and blend in.
Some people have a direction and forget the passion then live an empty life.
Some people have so much passion and so many directions that they take all of them to live a successful, memory-enriched life.
Some people simply exist and have nothing to live for then they live a soulless, heartless life where bitterness is their motive.
Life has meaning you just need to find it.

Snowflakes falling from gray clouds.
Layer of Snow covering the browns and oranges of Fall.
Cold temperatures and winter coats.

I know most conversation shouldn't involve religion, politics, money and death. But I can't help wanting to bring up religion, politics and death. They are interesting subjects! Life is what everyone talks about. Money isn't a conversation starter. Too many people are afraid of death. It's inevitable. Why not talk about something that going to happen anyways? Politics get juicy and hot, people eat it up all of time. Religion is starched collars, civilized talks and prayer chains. I read too much for the average human. I read people's moods by body movements, journal articles when I am bored, books of all kinds and sometimes newspapers. Sometimes it seems like people don't read at all. Conspiracy theories aren't going to make up for the real facts and truths. Joining a pseudo-cult isn't going to change the actual events of things. The Democrats didn't cause anything. The Republicans didn't cause anything. They just want people to blame for their societal problems. What are your resources for your point of view? Are you really that self absorbed to not listen to someone's point of view? I listen to both sides of the story so I end up on the right side of history.
Do you listen to yourself? Will you care about someone else who isn't you? Or is your opinion enough in your own eyes?

I always hung out with the weird kids ever since kindergarten.
I was bullied because I didn't want to be popular. Anytime a popular kid wanted to put me into their ranks I got anxious and returned to my weird friends because my weird friends treated me as their equal.
The popular kids treated me like an outcast. I didn't understand what it was like to be cool. I grew up going to the doctor frequently because I was a special needs kid. I had speech problems, I was shy, I wasn't physically strong because I had a limp since my knees used to be sensitive. I grew physically stronger throughout the years because of my physical therapy, my speech teacher helped me stop slurring my words so I could articulate my words with lots of effort, my reading tutors throughout the years helped me become the avid reader that I am today and my counselors throughout the years helped become emotionally intelligent.
Being Weird is an Honor because no matter the stigma it's about quality not quantity.

Be yourself, they will judge anyways.
Be yourself, things will change eventually.
Be yourself, things are better when you aren't trapped in other people's worlds so create your own.
Be yourself, have your own opinions so you don't lose yourself.
Be yourself, have your own perspective so they don't drown you in confusion.
Be yourself and you will be free.

To have mixed emotions all of the time isn't fun. In fact it's ******* exhausting. To have a reason for all mixed emotions combinations is like having a code written on your wrist in permanent ink. It never fades away. It's constant depression mixed with a lot of overthinking.
It's being happy at one moment and sad the next. Or angry one moment and laughing at a meme the next. To say that I am always depressed isn't accurate. In fact that makes me want to punch someone for the devaluing of my other emotions. Yes I am emotional but I have also felt emotionless. Both is its own story. I just choose to live with it.

The memories of you and I are bittersweet. When we messaged each other 2 years ago. Your messages made my heart skip a beat. Then we started Snapchatting each other. I noticed you friended me on Facebook, 3 years ago. When I first met you I thought your personality was abstractive but you were just so interesting, so beautiful. We were talking about superheroes. We were in Student Government Association group interview. Everyone else lost words to speak. We kept glancing over at each other. You wore a black dress and I wore a dressy shirt along with dress pants. We talked before that interview. After that I saw you at college. I guess our personalities blended well. My sweet, mild mannered personality with your I-own-the-place personality, we were a good team. I was a lone wolf who happened to know your friends. If you are reading these poems you know where to find me.

I have nothing to do.
I have nothing to say.
Maybe it's the rain. Maybe it's this exhausted feeling inside of me.
Maybe it's the day.
Hours tick by. Minutes are gone in a blink of an eye. Just because I wanted to do research on my mental illnesses.
I feel complete and bored. I wrote down everything I read.
Yet I still feel tired and useless. I didn't cure my mental illnesses by reading about them I am just more aware about them.

My Work Best Friend makes me the most joyful and peaceful person ever. Whenever she compliments me my heart warms up and I feel vulnerable in a good way. I trust her and she trusts me.
We are close to each other. Whenever she calls me the best pizza maker in the world I just smile and glance her way.
Everything just feels natural and right whenever I am around my Work Best Friend. I don't have to be stoic around her. I don't have to be someone that I am not and something that I am not.
She just understands me in a way that I haven't experienced in 6 years since I loss The Girl with Grayish Blue Eyes.
I respect her in a way that she knows that she is valuable to me.
She is my equal in wit and in charm therefore she is worthy of title of being my best friend. Very few people in my life make me joyful and peaceful yet I don't mind. To be insane is to be observant.

I am a mess of emotions, I am brokenhearted.
I am broken in ways, I am still figuring out.
I don't know what to do other than to make art out of my pain.
Painting with the shades of blue of my broken-heart to ink on paper.

A love that never blossomed.
My heart soaking up the agony of it all like a sponge in a soapy bucket of water.
Painting with the shades of blue of my heart as my loving dreams I had of her cloud my mind.
I let the rain pour.
But I don't let the bitterness consume the sweetness that resides in my broken-heart.

I saw my old arch nemesis from middle school who bullied me at youth group at the gas station I work at.
I thought all of my rage was gone. I thought I had completely forgiven her completely in my heart.
But no the rage was still there and I hadn't forgotten at all.
I wanted to mentally destroy her as she did to me in middle school but that wouldn't change anything. I wanted to beat her up but I was on the clock so I didn't want to be fired. So I just smiled at her and told her to have a good night. She remembered my name as I remember the flashbacks of the emotional torment she put me through. That heartless, soulless human hope you never forget that Kalie chose to be my best friend instead of yours. I may be a loner and outcast but I am not alone. I never have been alone. Kalie was everything you weren't and Kalie chose me. Kalie may have died when I was 15 and broke my heart but Kalie Reign lives in my memories. I haven't said her name in 3 years it's about time I mention her. I am Brandi the Brave and Kalie Reign is my favorite angel in heaven.

I am referencing Sam Fender because his voice is awesome. I am a Warrior so that's a fact.
Call Me Lover because my heart is full of love and terms of endearment.
Call Me Lover because I will define my rebellions since my fiery spirit guides me to places I thought I'd never go.
Call Me Lover because I can be make governments fear my loose cannon techniques.
Call Me Lover because I care so much for my people even if they don't care about me.
Call Me Lover because we are heroes to those who can't love themselves.
I am a Warrior because it is vital to have fun when bored in this tiny, adorable town.
I am a Warrior because we love poetic justice even if it is naturally ironic.
I am a Warrior because I lived through many of other people's wars with themselves.

It's not always figure out someone's weaknesses and strengths to get out of a situation sometimes it's seeing all of potential of a good person and forgetting they aren't that angel yet in fact a demon.
It's not always telling someone the root of their hurt sometimes it's seeing a monster and loving them as if they are human because the world is cruel enough.
It's not always defending your character to someone that won't listen sometimes it's showing someone that not all angels are gods to be worshipped.
It's not always starting a rebellion from Christianize society sometimes it's acting as if you aren't a judge but a friend who is willing to look past the flaws to see someone worth through hell and back for.
Changing the Game is a matter of humanity, it's up to us to change the world.

I am Changing the Key to my heart.
I require to not feel like I have been spiritually violated.
Every memory I go through of the Girl with Green Eyes and Scientist Boy No.2, I realized that I was emotionally abused both ways.
I trusted too easily. I loved them too much. I cared too much.
I gave them a friendship that they can never replace because I am too good for them. And they are too bad for me.
I am Changing the Key to my heart because I tore my walls down long ago because I thought that vulnerability was power.
I trust neither of them now. I don't know where to start with either of them I just know that I need to figure out a way to escape their expectations of me.

Trends are discovered by science and crowds.
Bigots are discovered by newspaper outlets and the media.
You can't really say life is a one way street.
Dorothy had the yellow brick road or the red brick road.
People told her which way to go.
We will never know what was on that red brick road.
Charts aren't all Math. The same not all scientists are evil.
Media have all kinds of perspectives it's the finding the right one that is where creativity is.

A name as powerful as my own. The girl who stole my pride, broke my heart and took my virginity. She drove me mad and read all of my poetry from my journals and notebooks. I didn't mind. She had me at we how gazed at each other.
She wanted me for my charm, talent and heart. She used to sleep with me in my bed to comfort me on my worst nights. She made me the legend of my hometown. She did research on my past and loved me.
She was my muse. I forgive her, I just don't forget. She called a day ago. Telling me that I was never an ******* to her, that I was her best lover out of all of her girlfriends, that I should update my voicemail and that she hopes that I live a happy life with her older sister. Also that she misses me. I still miss her and I don't regret anything. I knew I recognized those blue eyes from somewhere its genic.
She is in a psychiatric hospital right now. I never knew how insecure she felt about her own voice until I heard her have a meltdown on my phone. I want to visit her but I don't know where she is. Deep down I know she is my best friend and I don't know maybe it the fact that made me feel wild without doing anything. She touched my heart so she is worth it. I know that I just hope she does too. She is still human. She is still my girl even with all that madness.

She is the girl I made out with in the Hawk's nest in college.
She is the girl who I fell in love with.
She is the girl who I can't stop thinking ever since I met her after the SGA interviews.
She is the girl who comforted me when no one else would.
She is the girl who changed me for the better.
She is the girl who wanted my life to be only mine.
She is the girl who is my vocal witness.

Thank you readers and poets for my poetry and I!
I would be no where without you guys and gals.
Merry Christmas Eve! Enjoy the holidays!

It happens every year. Stores all decorated for Christmas.
People spending money on expensive gifts.
It is romantic the Christmas Walk.
There is hot chocolate. A Christmas tree lighting.
All kinds of singing. All before Christmas.