"If I die, I want to be a poet, not a soldier."

The essence of crystal
is not fragility.

It is delicate,
transparent.

Elegant,
subtle.

Brilliant,
luxurious.

­Our soul is crystal.

"Being mindful of other people's feelings is really important."

It all began
in a café,
with that conversation.

Theory and spirituality,
reflections on life.

Good thoughts,
good feelings.

At a gathering of friends,
that afternoon by the beach,
I felt
you were calling me.

Suddenly,
a signal in my mind,
an alarm.

Like the feeling of being watched,
but this time...
I knew someone was thinking of me.

A kind of telepathy,
a silent pull on my soul.

An ethereal presence,
a connection intertwined.

A whisper in my mind,
saying look at me.

A cry in my mind,
telling me you were there.

It's fascinating
That I keep coming back here.
When my heart breaks
And the darkness seeps in,
When there seems to be
No one to talk to
I come here
And I talk to myself.
I let strangers read the words
That no one can hear.
Even when they spill out of my mouth.
I come back to connect
With my true nature
And to those,
I dont even know their names.
So...I think I'll always be here.
So I can always be free.

tremors
the familiar anxious feeling
when I'm all alone
alone with my thoughts
the shadows creep in
gifting me tremors
tremors that capture my hands and legs
tremors that make my heart flutter and pound
tremors that terrify me
reminding me of that night
the night I tried to end it all
the memory gives me tremors
and terror

Staring at my reflection
Thinking that I’m dumb
And picking out every flaw I own
Staring into the distance knowing I’m wrong
Tearing myself apart and not eating a crumb
Trying to lose weight and walking endlessly
To try and scare the pounds away
Disappointing my bio mother and not making her proud
All I want from my parents are love and acceptance
But instead I get backstabbed
Blocking out reality and staying up ‘till midnight
Writing stories and leaving them unfinished
I wish to be heard but I’m left in the dark
Crying in my sleep and being abandoned
Complaining that it isn’t fair won’t make it better

I am a misfit
and I'm okay with that
I mean, I have to be
I don't want to blend in
and be the same as everyone else
I don't like clean girl makeup
but it's okay if you do
I like bold makeup
and it's okay if you don't
I am unique and different
sure, it might be hard to make friends similar to me
but I'd rather have little to no friends
by being myself
than having lots of friends
by being someone else
I may be lonely now
but it's even lonelier being someone you're not
I'm a misfit
and I'm okay with that

yes, I'm a poet
and I'm proud of it too
but reality sinks in letting me wallow in self-pity
I'll always be the poet
never a poem
I'll write about their eyes
their laugh
their perfect imperfections
but no one will capture my laugh
my smile
my beautiful flaws
I will always be a poet
but never a poem
I will write about beauty and grace
about love and heartache
but no one will turn me into a poem
I am stuck giving people words
and never getting any in return