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Alessia Mar 2018
I wish my mom new that I was failing algebra
That I can’t seem to solve for X to save my life
That I’m scared to open my math book because the wrong answer dance on my page like ballerinas in the black swan
In this case the black swan being the only right answer

I wish my mom new that the boys in my class laugh at me
That no boy will ever like me because they are afraid of being associated with me
That the boy I’m talking to isn’t my boyfriend he just wants my math notes
Funny enough I let down to people I one sentence

I wish my mom new that siting in a music class makes it hard to breath
That I can feel my heart pounding and my head go light
That I leave to go the bathroom so many times to fix my breathing that I’m pretty sure my teacher hunks I have a problem

I wish my mom new that I’m afraid of the treadmill
That it will open up itself and reveal sharp teeth waiting to eat me like dessert
That it will start with my cellulite for appetizers and eat my arms like I’m part of a 5 course meal
My bones will become dust and my skin will just be cells

I wish my mother new that I can’t control my anger
That when my breathing becomes rigged and my eyes get dark that it’s hard to see anything but red
That I have to count to ten and forget where I am to remind myself I’m not that person
That I can’t be that person
That I can’t let people talk about my issues like it’s some big headline on the times

I wish my mother knew this stuff
But then again if she paid attention to someone who wasn’t herself then maybe she would here my screams of help
Alessia Mar 2018
When freedom of speech no longer becomes available
When the words that you preach are no longer speakable
And the protests you attend are no longer reachable
And everyone has a piece of tape over their mouth
Afraid to step out of their lane and say the wrong thing
When the government has you ******* in a metaphorical chain
And threaten to put actual chains on you if you say something they don’t like
What will you do then
When the people you once looked up two have marks on their skulls where the thoughts of a rouge brain were made
If freedom of speech becomes unavailable
Would you wish you had actually spoken up when you could
Or would be to afraid of having a stain on your permanent record
Because freedom is no longer acceptable in the eyes of a leader who chooses his Florida mansion over the children you have nurtured for way longer the he was in charge
When you are no longer free
Your mind because a cage
And you wish you could see a future where you are allowed to preach
Instead of a future of which you are punished for the words you speak
Because without freedom of speech
We are becoming the brain dead zombies we watch on our full screens
Alessia Mar 2018
I want to feel loved
I want someone to hold me tight and tell me they love me
I don’t want another night in my cold bed alone as cry myself to sleep
I don’t want to wake up in a pile of blankets with tears stains on my cheek

Love stopped being available to me when I stopped loving myself
The boys I had crushes on never wanted me
Their was always a prettier person in the room that took the attention off of what you wanted

It easy for me to fall in love with you
All you need is to look at me for longer then 00.2 seconds
And I’m already planning our wedding
I don’t need to know your first name to know I want your last name

People find it unbelievable that a girl like me could like punk rock music
But a girl like me is tried of hearing about Taylor Swift complain about all the boys that want her
Because a girl like me sits in a math class with 13 Taylor Swift’s

“You’ve never had your first kiss, but you’re already 14”
I haven’t had my first kiss because I’ve had multiple boys call me just one of the guys
I seem to be a friend to all the guys I flirt with
And all the guys that flirt with me are nonexistent

I’m tired of every book I read ending with and they lived happily ever after
News flash people they all had bulimia  
And their boyfriends were using them for *** and a crown
So I’m sorry if that’s not what I want my life to be

Maybe if I wait a little longer
Happily ever after will come true
But if I wait a little longer I’m scared that I won’t want it to
Alessia Mar 2018
Someone tell me when I became a love poet
A walking stereotype
Can’t get anything but love off my mind
It *****

Can’t think of anything to type as my fingers hover over the keyboard
Can I say something that doesn’t make me seem like a love sick poet
But I can’t
Because I’ve stopped talking about what matters
As my mind is wrapped up in him
The same way my body wants to be

A love sick poet with no experience of real love
Or that’s what they say I am
I stopped writing about the girls that I see in my dreams and started writing about the boys I let walk Over me

This love thing seems to sell
Pretending I’m broken when really I’m not
Over exaggerating the story for my extra 15 minutes of fame
Pretending to be happy when the camera faces me

I’m not broke and I’m not happy
I’m just a love sick poet
Alessia Mar 2018
I understand why they call it a crush
Because it will break every bone in your body till you lay lifeless in your bed crying
Tear stained cheeks and blood shot eyes
The thoughts of him swarming my mind of the girl I’ll never be

Never be the girl he pulls closer as we dance to a slow song
Never be the girl he lays his soft lips on whenever he can
Never be the girl who could wear his oversized sweaters when she’s cold

I’ll never be the girl she is to him
Forgetting why I even want to be his in the first place
He makes me want to blow my brains out and is the only reason I want to live at the same time

But he’s just a crush
And I’m just broken
Broken from a boy who will never love me

It’s funny how that works
He’s free from everything he’s done to me
Yet I’m stuck with it
Stuck with having to see him everyday
Stuck with this never ending hope that he’ll look at me
He doesn’t even know what he’s doing to me but he’s doing it constantly
And I’m stuck with loving him

But is it still a crush when you find yourself in love with him
Alessia Feb 2018
A series of poems written at midnight
If I were to ever write a book that would be the name
But if we’re to ever write a book I would need the energy to finish it first
Maybe if I didn’t wrote stories at midnight then maybe I would be able to write a book
But then again when are you the most creatively functioning when your half asleep

Midnight dreams
If I were to write a song that would what it would be called
But if I were to ever write a song I’d have to learn to stop shaking as my hands hovered over the keys to my notes on my phone
But then again if I stopped shaking then I wouldn’t have anything to write about
Because your most creative when you talk about the experiences you have made and what they have left you with

Midnight talks
If I were to ever have a talk show that what it would be called
It if i were to ever have a talk show I would have to learn to talk infront of people with throwing up on myself
But then if I weren’t so scared I wouldn’t have any self deprecating jokes to talk because something about your pain makes people laugh
Because god most creative jokes come from the most pain you have felt

Maybe its something about midnight that keeps me going
The thought of me breaking the number one rule of my parents when I was young
‘Don’t stay up late’
Or maybe it’s the comfort I find in the dark that midnight brings to me
Or maybe it’s the fact that me being isolated while everyone sleeps reminds me that even the lonely souls have to talk to people every once in a while
Maybe it’s the thought of finding happiness in what is seen as evil
The night has always been so welcoming to me maybe that’s why it’s so easy to write about it
Alessia Feb 2018
At night the work seems a little bit more happy
As the ones who can’t sleep sit on their beds and look out the windows
For once the world looks happy
Theirs no screaming children in toy stores
Or angry business men yelling at their phone
For 8 hours in a day when everyone is asleep we can pretend that the world  is a happy place
Even if we know other wise

We can look at the world the same way we did as children
With hope for whatever is out there
We can fake the thoughts of happiness while we sit in the dark
And when the sun rises the next morning we’ll go back to our lives
The loves where we know that the world isn’t the way we wished it was a children
The way it really is

Cold
Alone
Scary
Hopeless

But for eight hours
As we sit on our beds, unable to sleep
We can pretend that the world is different
We can pretend that it’s the way it shoud be

Warm
Loving
Peaceful
Happy
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