A fire, raging inside the weathered skin of the world
People begging to come through,
Crawling and digging their way to the surface.
Pleading for a voice, yet being picked through and left behind,
For the next one is allowed to shine.

The loveliest concoction of gunpowder and flame,
Just below the surface of a temperate land.
Perplexing and contradicting tornadoes savage the mind,
Leave only emeralds and a shaky smile.
However life must push through all the while.

She is the most beautiful bomb.'
Unpredictible and clever,
Though she is haunted by many a thought,
She stands tall and fiercely.

I wish I were a tree.
I wish I could brace the wind and be brave.
I wish I could stand tall and sway in the breeze.
Unappreciated unless useful.
maybe i am a tree

I wish I were a Bomb.
I wish I could coerce people into submission.
I wish I could have a definitive plan.
Destructive and chaotic.
maybe i am a bomb

I wish I were a bird.
I wish I could fly above the clouds freely.
I wish I could travel about carelessly.
Perpetually running and escaping their problems.
maybe i am a bird.

maybe i am all of these things,
but for the reason i do not wish.
seasons come and go, and all things too,
maybe i should just wait til Spring.

This cold cold institution is wearing me down.
Like rushes of winter water eroding the bank.
Green leaves and bright flowers beg to remain,
but nature denies.

Nature is society.
Like a gazelle being hunted by a gazelle,
in a dry savanna, unknowing of its imminent death,
and then is mauled by the reality and cruelty that is natural order.

Torture, it is.
For me to wake up at seven in the morning to a ¨safe haven¨
Maybe it is a gate to heaven, because Lord knows im scared of dying there.

Sometimes I feel like things will never change.
but this past year has proven to me that it changes, and quickly.
Death, love, birth, new friends, old friends.
The smiling faces I see everyday will soon be gone.

Stories from people I've never met linger in my head despite being unknown, and the lives of people I know yet will never understand intertwine with mine like a puzzle.
Almost two thousand people in a seemingly dilapidated H swarm around each other, never stopping to ask the names of the person next to them.

We suffer together, cheer together, worry together, stress together, succeed together, and sometimes, we fail together.
Yet we are strangers.
The fish in the sea sometimes seem better acquainted than you and me.

In two short years, I will leave and never come back.
In two short years, my third grade crush will never pop back into my mind.
In two short years, all of the admonishments from my Mom will come into actualization as I realize I know nothing about those I've grown up with.
In two short years, I will leave the place I hated so much, and I will come to terms with the fact I've only hated it because it cant last forever.

Sometimes I feel as if things will never change.
But sooner rather than later we will face the biggest change of our lives.

So,
Goodbye, friends.
I'm sorry I never knew you.

A small town school in Middle-of-nowhere, Tennessee.
We get out early due to a tornado warning, so we prepare to leave at one pm.
Lunch time! I´m so hungry.
But right as i turn the corner, i hear alarms.
My smile drops and my tear ducts fill and i am suddenly afraid for my life.

Why is this reality?
Why does a once harmless, but annoying, fire alarm terrify us?
My friend who is usually not very lovey and not very touchy grabbed my arm and said ¨i am scared.¨
I used to find it easy to just fall into the mindset of, ¨it´ll never happen to me.¨

But what if it does?
who says it wouldn´t?
Two threats this year, one threat last year, so many false alarms and close calls but what are we doing?

Sad eyes see sad faces,
Hear sad whispers in dark places,
Touch fire with sad lethargy
And taste salt from a sad memory.

Bad girl, I hate being told.
Yet bad things seem to be uncontrolled.
Why do i have these bad traits?
Im beginning to crumble under these weights.

You deserve better.
I´d be better off alone.

there are days where I sit and stare at myself in the mirror
picking apart every little flaw, every extra roll and
every bit that's not the right shape or colour
and I think, almost religiously,
that I am not good enough for you.

Becuase the truth is that I'm not.

You deserve sunshine and flowers on a summers day,
not a work in progress as dull as a winters night.

I say this to you and you pull your lips together with a sad smile,
look down at me
say
"But what if I prefer winter"

My boy that is not the point.
All I do is make you worry and I wanna be your sunshine but I just don't
think
i
can
be
that

yet

I'm a work in progress.
Incomplete
I was shattered just before we met and putting the pieces together
is
killing
me

And the things we don't talk about
things we shelve for a conversation in the
future.

involves things that only
"I love you"
might be able to fix.

through everything
recovery is hard
and each and every day is a choice
I need to make
to be better
and
I'm not always strong enough to make that choice.

I just want you to understand
my boy
my lovely amazing
perfect
boy

that sometimes I don't eat
and sometimes I want to die more than not
that anxiety is a being that rocks me
and sometimes I need the rush of pain
from scrubbing hard at my skin
or dragging a blade across it

it's not about you.
it's not something your presence is going to necessarily fix












But i want to try for you.
Maybe i can't be your sunshine
but maybe
i can be your cup of tea
your jumper
your girl
wrapped up in your bed sheets
on a cold winters night

you once said you had no problem
helping me pick up my messes
and if you stand by that

ill be your girl.
In whatever season you want me.