I remember beautiful daisies
from when I was just a child.

The world around me seemed
to be so big and wild.

When I was young,
I would always pick the
biggest daisy I could find.

Id walk along the concrete
to see who would be mine.

“He loves me, he loves me not.”

Is what I would say,
as I pulled each perfect petal
from its beautiful display.

Not to harm it, but to cherish
it's wish for me that day.
That’s why I still grab a daisy
every time I see one when I pass by.

Once this  beautiful daisy has  
bloomed. It has a special magic trick
that it likes to do so it doesn’t die.

It’s also been given the name “day’s eye.”

When night comes,
it closes its petals over
the “eye” of the day past.

Then morning  comes and the daisy
opens its petals like a ray,
and the “eye” is ready for its new day at last.

As I’ve gotten older,
I don’t see many daisies around.

If I do, I grab one and
pull it from the ground.

This pretty little daisy,
hidden in the weeds,

Does it really answer
who truly loves me?

I often wish, as I did
when I was a little child,

That life would be just that innocent,
filled with cheerfulness and joy,
like this symbolic flower
does today in the wild.

Im way to critical of myself,
It’s always something in my heart,I never feel I’m rested.

My brain gets too invested.

It’s like im a ticking time bomb, But not one that explodes.

But one who never knows when,Her emotions start to show.

Sometimes there’s  not a reason for All this silly pain.

It’s all seems pretty trivial,Seems to make me feel insane.

I hate to see my reflection  in the mirror On the wall.

Maybe that could be the problem.It’s just looking at all my flaws.

I never have liked what I see, i’ve always known why.

Can’t I just be pretty, to everyone else’s eyes?

I know looks don’t matter, It’s all just what inside your heart.

When critical of yourself, It’s when these feelings start.

I know I have my issues and probably drive people crazy.

I can’t help I get excited, I’m such a silly daisy.

I know I always ramble about nonsense all the time.

But see if im talking to someone then I’m keeping them occupied.

They won’t be so quick to judge me by how I come across.

Im really not trying to be anybody boss.

I always feel like when I turn my back.

Im the topic of discussion , on all the things I lack.

Will I ever be normal and not so in my head?

It’s starts in the morning and never settles till I’m in bed.

I guess im not the only one with this struggle everyday.

“Take a breath”, “Calm down”, “You’re going to be okay”.  

See, it’s never that easy; it’s not just the flip of a switch.

For if it were I wouldn’t feel like sometimes  I’m  such a *****.

I never mean to come off angry,  or even cut people off.

It’s just another product of one of my many flaws.

So, if you feel like me and are hypercritical, too.

Just know that there’s someone out there who knows exactly what you’re going through.

you can buy my love
I am selling it for a song
make it one I know
I want to sing along
is it strange
that my brain
wants to make love
to another brain
or my soul with another soul
on the astral plane
I feel as if I am the only one
who thinks this way
I have searched for a partner
but only found memories
I have searched for a high
that led myself to the floor beneath me
I am constantly reaching
for something, anything
and now I am believing
that I just want someone to want me
for the man I have grown to be

Anxiety and Fear

Looks like you’re holding a snow globe so intricate and sweet.
Once shaken, the snow starts falling in big sheets.

For this fragile snow globe is not ever really clear.
When it’s shaken and shaken again, then comes the fear.

You can’t see inside to the beautiful scene.
You start to panic; will the view ever be clean?

You keep shaking the snow globe harder and harder, and then,
The questions and anxiety creep right on in.

Will I ever get to see into this beautiful globe?
Why is it so hard to see through the snow?

Why is it like this, what did I do this time?
I’m always ruining something I feel every time .

This perfect snow globe will never be the same.
Why does it feel like I’m going insane?

I’m a huge mess of tears and fears.
This precious snow globe doesn’t deserve to be here.

I then take a seat and set the globe down.
Upon my face, there’s such a big frown.

I’m upset with myself; what did I do?
I’ve broken something beautiful, shiny, and new.

It’s then when I look at that snow in the globe start to slow down.
It starts to settle back down to the ground.

I start to breathe slower; the tears and fear calm their war.
It is then that I realize what I have done, and all becomes clear—

that I do have some power over my anxiety and fear.

Leanne

Under the moonlight, into the deep darkness,
The pale indigo moonbeams shine on all things here on Earth.
The stillness in the air causes the trees to stand alert.
Moonlight shines onto the creek where your dreams overflow.
I'm holding onto the moonlight casting down towards the dirt,
hitting rocks and pebbles like hidden silver treasure for me to search.
Each star, specifically placed in the sky, shines down, sparkling like diamonds into my eyes.
They reach the dull, dark brown hue and make them shine bright and new.
Down here, the nighttime sky guides me from behind,
sure to light the way so I am safe and secure from the deep darkness ahead.  
As I look, I see a white, cotton-like pillow on the ground.
It seems to be be a cloud that has fallen down.
It's not just a cloud that lay undisturbed,
but it's lit from within, like stars and moonbeams were placed inside.
This pillow is hard to resist; the comfort is evident from the sight of it.
I grab it up into my arms and hold it tight.
I carry it inside to sleep with it for the night.
I fall asleep so easily and relaxed with this pillow under my head.
Instantly dreaming of the nighttime sky that rescued me from the darkness I can finally leave behind.

Emotional release,
A cleansing for your soul.
Sadness has a way to cease;
Happiness is on a roll.
The shock of life’s moments,
These are raindrops of the soul.
Expressing what you feel inside,
No need for noise or attention.
Just showing raw emotion,
Sometimes even in a rage.
These are the silent words of the soul,
The flow of sorrow’s river.
When grief or sadness draws near,
Emotional breakdowns and uncontrollable sadness—maybe fear?
These things happen to anyone.
These tiny little drops of dew,
Like those on the fresh morning green,
Are just tiny teardrops we all have seen.
If you haven’t, don’t say you never will.
These drops fall like a steady rain,
Not to hurt you or bring you down;
These are healing for you,
Like a medicine you release to relieve yourself.
These are your tears.