Stop telling me
How
Beautiful
I am  
Stop saying that
I’m such a
Funny girl.
Beautiful girls
Don’t stand alone
At parties
Or spend Friday
Nights alone
In their room.
Funny girls don’t
Lock themselves
Away
To
      
      C
         R
             Y
Because tears
Are words
I can’t
Say out loud
Not yet

It’s
Funny how
Memories slip
Out of
Your eyes
Like that.

And my biggest
F E A R
Is that eventually
You will
See me
The way
I see
Myself.
My question is
How do you
Run from something
Inside your head?

I’ve lost my
mind
It’s not mine
It’s theirs

See everyone has a
Chapter ind their life
They don’t read out loud

Mine is a tear-stained book,
That I can’t read,
And I don’t want to be the author

Not everyone believes in her, and
Not everyone supports her.
And she knows it. But
Her god goes with her always,
And that’s what sustains her.
How cool is it that her god,
Made oceans and mountains and Galaxies
And thought that the world needed her.
Because she was gold and dirt
And most just saw the mud on her hands,
And backed away.
But God took her and washed off
The mud, the lies, the hate.
And pulled her crown off its pedestal,
And set it gently on her head.
God whispered softly in her,
“Be in pursuit of what sets your soul on fire.
Because fire in its own way cleans away
The impurities. And if that doesn't work here I'll be.
Waiting for you.”

You wear me like a an old T-shirt,
I should be a black dress.
Dark and silent- and image of beauty.
Midnight belonged to miracles,
The night always had an overactive imagination.
The only thing people are looking for is meaning,
I am searching for a silent room.
Then I remembered the silence depressed me.
I may have lost myself,
The person I used to be seems
So far away. The night
Went black until morning had breath.
I must learn to understand
My soul is not bound by a
Three-dimensional space, I am more.
The vision came and vanished
But the longing to see does
Not fade. Her existence made sense in the end
Home is more complex than a location.
A troubled sea still remains in my heart.
Cascading seconds, the rhythmic moments
The end is guaranteed

She’s like the ocean;
Mysterious, Beautiful, Wild, Free
Yet so lonely.
Each move she made was full of grace,
Even if it meant hurting you.
She’s cold to you at first,
But after a while, she gets warmer and lets you in further.

She’s like the ocean;
Like the wind, and the stars mixed together.
She taught others
How to drown and
To feel things above the sky.

She’s like the ocean;
Calm and still, rough and rigid
But in the end she is
Captivating and beautiful.
She’s built up a wall around her like a sand castle;
And when the ocean crumbles it down,
I’m afraid she’ll drown.

She’s like the ocean;
Stormy and calm
At the same time.
She was the tide;
Always drifting in and out of the lives of those who loved her,
Eternally indecisive,
Unable to discern whether she desired the solidity and safety of land,
Or the wild freedom of the ocean.

I’m surrounded by fakes;
People who think and feel,
but hide who the are underneath dirt and societies ideas.
People who try and fail
to become what they think they should be.
We wake up in the morning and cry,
For we are a disappointment.
We realize we aren’t perfect,
Yet we strive for perfection.
In this vicious cycle called life,
You envy someone,
They envy someone else,
And around it goes till we’re six feet under.
Even when we die,
We aren’t exactly sure who we are as people.
We hide behind masks,
And show our true colors to few.