When he looks at me
My heart leaps into infinity
My soul smiles with a beautiful brilliance
My chest aches with love
My mind swirls like a hurricane
My stomach tightens with anticipation
My whole structure goes rigid
My smile sings a brilliant tune
My eyes brighten like a thousand suns
My everything goes wild for you

But as I breathe the breath of despair
I see the truth in the air
As I realize on my own
I mean nothing to you.

Her heart is but a song
Played out of tune
Her soul is but a train
On the wrong track

She is yet to discover
That life is but a test
Never to know the answers
She will always pass the test

She feels of but a nothing from thin air
Like their is no one to care
She feels as if the shards of her heart
Are cutting through her soul
She feels the tidal wave of doubt
Sinking her courage into the sand
She can hear the ghost of herself
Only as a whisper in her ear
She feels like a song
That has grown weary
She feels as of a poem
That is but words on paper
She feels the fire of anger grow
But she only screams inside
But she always knows
That she has the loudest mind.

Her hear like glass,
Broken of course.
Her skin like paper,
Cuts so smoothly.
Her mind like thorns,
It hurts to think.
Her eyes like rain,
For it never stops pouring.
Her soul on fire,
Because she burns inside.

Roses are red
Yet blood shares the same resemblance
Violets are blue
But dead bodies are too
My heart is pink
But it is also cold

You whisper in my ear
My thoughts
And every fear

You know all my weaknesses
You see every flaw
You know all my secrets
You see all my scars

You tell me there is no future
And force me to believe in nothing

You tell me not to speak
Not to raise my hand
You tell me just to smile
Even though none is there

I am but your puppet
Nothing but a doll
You force me to want perfection
When I have none at all.
      
                    —Bella Crosthwait

With a smile
Made of pearls,
And her eyes
Filled with oceans,
Her skin
Fair and perfect,
A beauty
Beyond compare

She carries the weight,
Of a million suns
Her body aches,
With the weight alas

Her heart of glass,
Fragile but big
The cracks from her past
Are but shards from the fall
The fall that had shattered her
But not her all

Once again she climbed her mountain
So she could put back together
The final beautiful peice

              —Bella Crosthwait