This day was fated,
Thoroughly rated,
You've waited and waited,
Now life feels truncated.

This day wasn't celebrated,
You're so isolated,
To this hell you've created,
And now you're devestated.

Your family is irritated,
Overwhelmingly aggitated,
This day's so complicated,
More than ever calculated.

You, yourself, were nominated,
Everyone else violated,
The rules that're illustrated,
The day is now here, long awaited.

Today is another day,
It won't be like yesterday,
It will be good,
Like any day should.

Better, it will be,
Just you wait and see,
My day will be great,
The sun won't be late.

The moon won't come,
We'll be surrounded by sun,
We'll be doused in light,
Forgetting the night.

Today will be fun,
I won't have to run,
It will be the best,
Like every day suggests.

It won't be bad,
I won't be sad,
I promise you,
The sky will be blue.

...

...

...

No... It can't be,
I know what I'll see,
It will be a bad day,
It'll be like yesterday.

A boy so sweet,
Only a boy is he,
But Tom, sweet Tom,
And his tomfoolery.

Under the table,
We used to feed Rover,
And play pat-a-cake,
With the luck of a clover.

Under the table,
We then held hands,
Discussing our favorite,
Metal and rock bands.

Under the table,
We now don't need,
The table used to hide,
Our feelings, now freed.

No need for a table,
Because now I have you,
I can hold your hand,
And kiss you, too.

Some call poetry the language of Love,
And a poet is one sweet mistress,
But I call it the language of Heart,
Of Mind, and Soul, and Distress.

It is not Love that drives a writer,
But the fear of Loss and Strife,
And with these bittersweet words I say,
One might fear a poet's life.

In the darkest depths of unimagined,
The imagined rises true,
And Love somehow, against all odds,
Strikes out of the blue.

I’m not okay, but that’s okay.
I don’t need to be okay all the time.
I don’t want to be okay all the time.

That’s unreasonable.

I’m not okay, but that’s okay.
Waves wash over me in each gulp of broken breath I take.
Waves wash down my cheeks in every glimpse of this greyscale world I get.

It seems unreasonable.

To not be okay, is it really okay?
To have thoughts of everything in a field of nothing?
To believe you are nothing in the moment you are the most something?

It’s unreasonable.

I’m not okay, but that’s okay.
I won’t be okay all the time.
I can’t be okay all the time.

Unreasonable.

I’ve said it so much that okay has become unreasonable,
that a word repeated has lost all meaning
and all emotion.
It has lost structure and no longer looks of a word,
but the remnants of one.

Explain how a word that can be simplified to but two letters can lose all meaning.

It’s not okay.
It’s unreasonable.

i don't know what to say.

An orb of light,
In a scorching night,
It's taking flight,
A glowing kite.

Twinkles and shine,
I claim it as mine,
Running from time,
With a worthless rhyme.

It seems alarming,
Maybe self-harming,
Bombs I'm disarming,
To meet my Prince Charming.

A frog in a lagoon,
A kiss too soon,
A night's darkened noon,
I look up to the moon.

Happy Valenitne's day,
Hope you have a good one,
Because I'm here to say,
Don't got a date? Just run.

Sit on the couch,
Binge some Netflix,
Get the food in the pouch,
It's a simple fix.

That's what I'm gonna do,
As the guy I like, doesn't back,
But, good luck to you,
With your lovely Valentine's hack.

Man cannot recreate
What it does not know
The sky we see everyday
Is more than it may show

The blue above our dreary lives
Fills me with such peace
And no painting can depict
The clouds of wool and fleece

The sky we see everyday
Is more than you may think
It's blue and grey and red
And scattered purples and pink

I truly believe no one can see
The colours the sky can bare
Because when I look up at it
I walk through life prepared

When I see the sun ablaze
And the clearest blues around
I think to myself, and feel so free
Like I'm walking on a cloud

I find myself escaping
To found places of fiction
Fantasies, and utopias
Fuel my key addiction

A place where my soul
My body and my mind
Hide in seperate realms
All so hard to find

My body is in reality
My home, so to speak
But when I stay in this place
My mind becomes weak

My mind prefers to wander
The wonders of cloud nine
Every thought, will and dream
Could somehow all be mine

My soul is with the fictions
The vastly different worlds
Movies, books, and artworks
Lost among the words

But when separated,
These three grow strong
Living in the worlds
Where they each belong

Yes they may take trips
And visit another part
But in all of these places
There are pieces of my heart

Waves stagger,
Tall and high,
Horizon blocked,
Ripples fly.

We are lovers,
Loving those in need,
Those who deserve it,
Who sit broken, they bleed.

We are friends,
Of the paper and ink,
Writing what we want,
With little time to think.

We are tenants,
Of a place we call home,
Writing freely in this space,
Which we wish to own.

We are dreamers,
We live in our heads,
Connecting our thoughts,
With thousands of threads.

We are poets,
Writers of the arts,
Sharing deep secrets,
From the deepest of hearts.

I'm crazy,
I'm weird,
I'm whack,
I'm feared.

Unnoticed,
But seen,
Invisible,
I've been.

I get these looks,
Though, what do they mean,
I haven't a clue,
But they're rather obscene.

I am an attraction,
That wasn't meant to be,
I've learned that I,
Just shouldn't be me.

What’s wrong?
Are you really asking me that?

You see me standing alone,
In a hallway,
No one around,
And think something’s wrong.

You see me,
Head down,
Reading a book at lunch,
And think something’s wrong.

No other time,
Have you acknowledged my existance,
That I am even among you,
And now you ask ‘what’s wrong’?

Unbelieveable.

You don’t know who I am,
Yet assume you do,
Because you hear my name called,
Every morning,
Every period,
Every day.

Now, let me ask you something,
What’s wrong?

I walk the halls,
Watching her flowing hair,
Golden in the perfect lighting,
Her hips moving from side to side,
Like Newton's cradle,
Left,
Right,
Left,
Right.

I envy her perfectly highlighted face,
And her winged liner,
That's as sharp as her heels,
Clicking along the wooden boards,
Hypnotizing everyone and anyone,
Including me.

Me,
The girl that walks alone,
To and from class,
The girl that wears tattered jeans,
And stained shirts,
The girl that drops her books,
And gets bullied on countless occasions,
The girl that wishes that she was just like her,
Just like this girl that walks the halls.

Why am I not good enough?
And I'm not talking about others' opinions,
I'm talking about my own,
My self-image,
My self-worth,
My self-confidence,
Why am I not good enough?

Little do I know,
As I walk the halls,
That this girl,
This perfect image of a woman,
Doesn't want to be that way anymore,
While I would **** for that,
She would simply throw it away,
If it were that easy.

The popularity,
The attention,
The friends,
She'd be rid of it in a heartbeat,
If it were up to her.

But I still believe that I'm not good enough,
That I need a face of makeup,
Heels that are too tall to balance on,
An outfit to make me comfortable with my body,
Just to make me feel like I'm worth something,
Like I really am good enough.

So, I watch this girl,
And I envy her,
And she envies me,
As we walk the halls.

Is it because,
You don't have anyone to talk to?
Or because you want to spread emotions,
Like when you're feeling blue?

Is it because you're sad,
And need someone to hear you vent?
So you sit alone and write,
Then wonder where the time went?

Is it because,
You don't have a life of your own?
So writing for others,
Is like a second home?

Is it because,
Painting isn't enough?
Because there aren't enough colours,
To show how life is tough?

Is it because,
You're needing a friend?
To tell them how your patience,
Is nearing its end?

Is it because,
You're seeking attention?
You want someone to notice you,
Like it's life's redemption?

Is it because,
Every word you write,
Is like the first star,
In a starless night?

Is it because,
When you get out of bed,
You say it'll be a bad day,
And it isn't just in your head?

Is it because,
Writing for others,
Is a coping mechanism,
Hiding from fathers and mothers?

Is it because,
When you read it out loud,
Microphone in hand,
You hear claps of a small crowd?

Is it because,
That tiny crowd you make up,
Is just imagination,
Telling you to wake up?

Or is it because,
All of these things combined,
Creates the monster which is you,
The you, you can't find.

I'm a writer,
Of the night,
Shying away,
From bright light.

I work at my best,
When no one's around,
So I can write,
In peace, no sound.

This may seem odd,
And it is, really,
But I like to write,
And often, ideally.

But that's not how it goes,
I can't write every day,
Sometimes there's no spark,
And it won't go my way.

But when I get going,
I will not go to bed,
As the night is my ally,
A mate, a good friend.

I prefer the darkness,
It gives me better sight,
This doesn't make sense, but,
I'm a writer of the night.

Racing through
Jumping around
My sickened mind

When I met you, my eyes turned to hearts
Just like the cartoons we saw years apart

I hadn't touched paper in over a year
And when I got to know you, I wrestled my fear

I saw you for you and wrote what I saw
I wrote miles and miles about just what you wore

I looked in the mirror with you by my side
And thought "Wow, I'm so lucky to just be alive"

I browsed through our photos over and over
I knew you were rarer than a true four leafed clover

It made me want to write, want to scream out these words
Because being around you made me feel like the birds

Like I was finally free, and the words came to me
And I could finally see everything we could be

I thought about our pasts, our presents, our tomorrow
I thought about how your heart was mine to borrow

I thought and I thought and my pen started gliding
Because the paper was the only one I could confide in

I wanted to burn every word on this page
Because it felt like too much to be called just a phase

And now the words come to me, so fast and so free
I think about how I just want you next to me

I know it can't be true, at least not for a while
So for now, when you can, at least give me a smile

And I’m going to thank you every now and then
Because you’re the one that made me want to write again

Youth,
As I watch the children,
Playing and laughing,
I wonder what my life would be like,
If I had that opportunity.

Youth,
As I watch the children,
Smiling and hugging their parents,
I wonder what my life would be like,
If my parents had cared for me.

Youth,
As I watch the children,
Riding their bikes around the park,
I wonder what my life would be like,
If we had that kind of money.

Youth,
I wish mine was more like theirs'.

My lfie si a cdoe,
Taht I wnat yuo ot dodece.

Pealse dodece it.

For me.
Help me.