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Apr 13 · 23
Casey Apr 13
Once, and again, and again.
How many times will I hear the same words?
The same diagnosis?

I can tell you all about how it’s not fair and how I’m sick of the people I love being told how long they can expect to live.
But this is so common.

Get over it, right?

Until I hear it again.
I am sad !

My dad was diagnosed with cancer so now both of my parents have cancer ! Granted they caught it early so he’s fine but still it’s not like it’s gonna ever go away
Nov 2022 · 50
Casey Nov 2022
“He’s actually been less angry since…well, probably since he thought I was going to die.”

I stop and stare at her. Didn’t expect her to say that, but it makes sense. I had forgotten about her diagnosis. “…right.”

“He hasn’t said that to me but from how he was during that time, I think that’s what he thought,” She explains, breaking eye contact. I don’t want to remember this. I don’t want to talk about this. She hugs her arms.

I flashback to the drive back home with him.

“The drainage port got infected and those idiots, the doctors, they didn’t notice.” His brow furrows, but his eyes betray his resolve, tearing up as he tells me. He wipes his face and clears his throat. “She nearly died from that, you know.”

I didn’t know. I was 15 and all I knew was that I was getting picked up from my at-the-time girlfriend’s house because he texted me that she was in the ICU. I lied to my ex. Told her it was an appointment. I was scared. I think I was in denial, probably. I know that I didn’t stay in the room with her very long because I couldn’t keep pretending like everything was okay.

I don’t like talking about this, but I don’t like pretending like it’s not reality, or ignoring her when she’s still clearly sick even when she’s not on chemo anymore.

Still. I hate the uncertainty. I hate not knowing how much longer I’ll have my mom for.

Back in the present again. “Maybe.” I reply.
I didn’t want to confirm or deny her assumption. What me and my dad talked about was our little moment I guess. He never opens up.
May 2022 · 63
Love Is
Casey May 2022
I’ve been thinking about writing this for a while but I got stuck on how I thought it should sound and look and read so i thought to myself “**** it” and decided to just write down exactly what i want to say.
Sometimes I feel like I don’t know how to say what I feel, actually scratch that, all the time I don’t know how to say what I feel. I wanted to write this as a nice cute song but I got hung up on trying to make stuff rhyme and it’s not about it being good to anyone else I just crave approval so I know that I didn’t **** up. But enough about me.

This is for you and you know who you are and if you don’t, well then, if it resonates with you then it’s for you.

I don’t know how to describe how I feel love, but I know that I feel it.
It’s not something I can pin down with a word like other people can, how they say “exhilarating” and “selfless”.
It feels like a fluttering, an overwhelming joy, but at the same time it feels nothing like that, it feels like a cool breeze off the lake.
So, for me, the feeling of love is always changing.
But I can see it.
I can see how I love you when I look at pictures of us.
I can see my love when I feel my eyes crinkle and my cheeks ache from a smile.
Everyone around me has always tried to define my love for me, but my love is not like theirs because it is subtle and quiet.

I’ve been working on saying it out loud when I feel it.
If it’s ever changing for me, it must be confusing as hell to everyone else.
Because others have tried to identify what they think is my love based on what they think they know love to be.
It is not a universal feeling, I understand.
So, you may see a blank face sometimes, but I provide the clarity, and I say,

I love you.
Someone reading this gonna be like “**** this guy is defo on the asexual spectrum”
Feb 2022 · 646
I wanna write a song
Casey Feb 2022
I wanna write a song
I wanna tell the whole world something on my mind
Make it catchy and fun and rhyme
But I’m afraid I’d get it all wrong

I wanna write a song
And sing it for everyone to hear
But my voice isn’t that great and my uke sits unplayed
I’m sure nobody would sing along

Oh look what I’ve done
In spite of it all, in the height of it all
I’ve put the words on the page, I’ve won.
Despite the stupid insistence of my thoughts; so persistent
I’ve gone and wrote a song

I want to make someone proud
Not in the way they’ve told me they are
I want to see it on their face and be able to tell
Without them saying it aloud

I just wanna write a song
It doesn’t even have to make any sense (cents?)
I really wanna put something out there
And prove to myself what I’ve know all along

Oh look what I’ve done
In spite of it all, in the height of it all
I’ve put the words on the page, I’ve won.
Despite the stupid insistence of my thoughts; so persistent
I’ve gone and wrote a song

And I know it doesn’t seem like much but to me it’s a first
Here’s to all of the others who think everything they make is the worst
The first draft of my first song :) I'll probably edit this and repost a finished version when I get around to it.  Now to make a chord progression and a melody.....
Oct 2021 · 181
Casey Oct 2021
Am I recovering or just distracted?
Jul 2021 · 135
What Do You Want, Really?
Casey Jul 2021
You don’t know what’s next, and that’s alright
You never really understood the idea of success
It is, in its nature, a self-defined word

You always thought you had to prove your worth
You felt the need to change something, and become noticed.
You wanted to be known.

I can only offer what I know so far.
You have to learn to validate yourself
Otherwise you will live your whole life trying to please other people.

I know that twisted wrist behind your back, I know that fake plastered smile,
I know the gritted teeth and the tired eyes.

Walk away.
I’ve always been a people pleaser and now in therapy I’m learning to finally put myself first. It’s weird and I’m defo not used to it but yeah.
May 2021 · 211
Prove it to me
Casey May 2021
"If you're a guy, why do you carry around a purse?"

I stare at her, hard.
My gender therapist, questioning me?

To carry my ****. Why else?
Don't impose these stereotypes on me.

my jeans don't have pockets.
okay,,,, first of all--*****
Dec 2020 · 187
- 12/14/2020
Casey Dec 2020
The sun still rises
The earth stills turns
Life still goes on,
but you’re not here.

I wish I took up your offer to go golfing, just once.

You would’ve let me win anyways.
You always did.

Rest well.
I lost my grandpa to covid.
Casey Nov 2020
It rains a little
It rains a little
It rains a little
Rain song
It rains a little

Cleanse the heart.
Cleanses the skin, cleanses and relieves pain.
"Very good. Too bad."

Sing a clear song
Hurt the lungs
If you want to change your name, humble yourself and know that you will not be insulted.
"Nobody believes you. You're lying."

Become a holy soul.
The dragon flew through the air.
By strong winds and terrible falls.
"What you see next is good.”

I can't sing on my own.
His voice turned green.
Heavy rains filled my heart
The sun is on
Honey, they took me to a beautiful place.
I have no idea what this is but it’s pretty in its own way
Casey Oct 2020
I hate being right about things
that I don’t want to be right about

Shame on me.
Guess I should’ve known better than to hope.
It hasn’t even been a week…
Oct 2020 · 81
It’s Time
Casey Oct 2020
I’ve spent 6 years waiting,
lost and confused,
stumbling my way through the dark.
Slipping rocks into my pockets to weigh myself down.

Thought about giving up reaching the surface too many times to count.

I’ve finally been handed a flashlight.
I’m going to find my way out of here.

And of course, I might get lost on the way.
The flashlight might burn out.
But I’m not going to back down anymore.

It’s time to recover.
We’ll get through this.
Sep 2020 · 627
Casey Sep 2020
Don’t dwell on it.

Be free.

I love you guys.
Positivity post :)
Sep 2020 · 303
Casey Sep 2020
I don’t even know how to write anymore.

I used to swim in this ocean of words and ideas.
Now it’s just sand.
Slipping through my fingers.
Sep 2020 · 87
An Honest Lie
Casey Sep 2020
“  Don’t ask me how I’ve been
unless you’re prepared.

Truth is, I haven’t been great, but that’s
predictable.   “

I’m not even looking at her anymore.
Just staring at the ceiling, this deadpan expression carved into my stone face.

She asks me if I need anything.

I just laugh.
Bitter, cruel.
This is past the breaking point.

“  No, no.
It’s too late.

You’re too late.  “
Don’t @ me
Jul 2020 · 149
Recipe for Addiction
Casey Jul 2020
The fact was, I didn’t want to because I was afraid of addiction.

But then I had this thought—
1. if you do it right, it’ll only be once so you won’t have to worry about that.

That’s how it all starts, right?

2. Just this once,
you swear it to yourself,
only one time.

Except we all know it’s never just once.

3. You don’t even want to, but at this point it’s become more sort of a, “Why not?”.

4. Staggered footsteps and a headache later, you forget your feelings.
Regret doesn’t matter when you’re too busy giggling at the spinning ceiling about nothing.

5. But then you crash.

And you’re tired.
You’re so ******* tired.

6. Rinse and repeat.
Don’t do drugs kiddos.

P.S. Renny if you’re reading this it’s about CoFFeE.
Casey Jul 2020

It’s not fair.
How could they do that?

I’m sick of being hated for existing.

Why do they hate me so much?
What did I do?
It’s not my fault.
I can’t do anything.


I could have saved her.
I failed.
Please forgive me.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Hey dad, my identity isn’t political viewpoint you *******. I’m an idiot to think you’d ever want to know me.
Jun 2020 · 236
The Muse
Casey Jun 2020
Once upon a day of spring, while I thought, in the early morning,
Over many an empty and ignored notebook paper on my floor—
While I was writing, nothing shocking, there was a sudden knocking,
As of something frantically pounding, pounding at my chamber door.
“ ‘Tis the poet’s muse,” I uttered, “knocking at my chamber door—
I’ll let it in, nothing more.”

Ah, with sorrow I can recall how onto pages the words would fall,
And every phrase was brought to me from a tempest to the shore.
Eagerly I searched the sands;—digging for them with frenzied hands
I would find my poems, but I can—can never find them anymore—
For the wretched but beautiful language that was once my being’s core—
Beyond my reach, evermore.

And the symphony of a distant dirge filled me with a sudden urge,
Enthralled me—thrilled me with lavish courage felt certain times before;
So that now, in spite of what is real, I opened the door with zeal
And asked, “Muse, will I never heal? Am I destined to find empty shores?”
A buffoon was I, for nothing but a whisper far off from my door.
Quoth the whisper, “Evermore.”

“Be that word your leave, fake muse, you mirage!” I howled with grieve—
“Stay no longer in my presence, knock no longer on my door!”
But the whisper, the muse, remains still lurking outside causing me pain—
Incessant knocking, there’s no refrain—more papers strewn on the floor.
I plead with the muse, I beg it to take flight from my chamber door.
The muse just states, “Evermore.”
LA Assignment was to write a parody of Poe's poem "The Raven". Fair use and all that, I don't claim to own this since even though I did write it, not every phrase is original so therefore don't credit this to me.
May 2020 · 45
11:00 p.m.
Casey May 2020
Here I am,
once again.

It’s 11:00 p.m.

No words.
Shot nerves.

How am I supposed to sleep?

I’m staring at my phone screen.

Check it once, twice,
wait, check it again,
maybe something popped up between the time it took me to blink.

But it’s still the same.
No notifications.

It’s 11:00 p.m.

Bits of conversation float through my head.
There are a million things I want to text, to say, but how do I even begin?
Please be safe. I hope wherever you are, you’re safe. ☀️
May 2020 · 197
Quick Write - 5/14/20
Casey May 2020
We dance on the stage, ballerinas practicing our routine.
We watch from the audience and applaud.
Personalities painted in pictures of pretty pastels.
Don't be fooled.
We may entertain ourselves with the blaring lights of the stage,
but it's a heatless fire.
Casey May 2020
From card games and Legos,
towns of plastic people,
an architect of those tiny bricks.

From apple trees
and “sword”-fights with snapped twigs
on a summer breeze.

From road trips,
endless hours in that suburban,
endlessly asking, “Are we there yet?!”.

From curious clumsiness,
burnt hands on stovetops,
and scraped knees on pavement.

From the frozen creek,
gliding—no—flying across the surface,
on well-worn blades.

From Michigan trails,
glittering lakes and skipping stones,
hot against my palms from the sun-scorched sand.

From grassy, unkempt fields
behind an unfamiliar school,
painted with white lines and home to an ambitious team.

From “the sticks”,
or the country, as it’s better known,
bittersweet memories follow so that wherever I may go,
forever this was home.
I've tried to publish this poem for like 2 hours now so **** it sorry guys you don't get to see the cool description that was supposed to be on the one that was supposed to get published.
Apr 2020 · 92
Happy Anniversary
Casey Apr 2020
1 year ago,

I killed her.

9:00 pm, to be exact
Apr 2020 · 36
Casey Apr 2020
    ******* i n g
Casey Apr 2020
Expected to know what to write.
Expected to fill these pages with wonderous words.
Expected to be good at that.
Expected to be a natural.
Expected to be the best.
Expected to be successful.
Expected to be more.
Expected to do more.
Expected to know what to say and exactly when to say it.
Expected to be kind, always.
Expected to be "normal".
Expected to grow up mentally past my years.
Expected to make a lot of money.
Expected to know what I want
Expected to know what I don't want.
Expected to get over it.
Expected to change more.
Expected to never change.
Expected to not be destructive.
Expected to always be happy.
Expected to make other people happy and keep them that way.
Expected to live.
Expected to recover.
Expected to want to recover.
Expected to live.
I've said that.
Prompt was to write a parody of the poem "Fear" by Raymond Carver.
Casey Apr 2020
My old name is dead to me.
That's why they call it a deadname.
The person who had that name breathes no more.
She was killed by my own hands.

She was named for both of her grandmothers,
some sort of sentiment to come from a careless mistake.
Maybe this is what made it so easy for me to **** her
because her name was a throw-away.

Her middle name came from the title of a movie
that her parents had once liked.
But the movie is old and bland, and the plot has no meaning.
So her names are futile attempts at trying to right a wrong,
trying to make up for something that can never be fixed.

I killed her.
I wanted her dead so badly,
so I killed her.

My name is Casey.

I am not heartless, though.
She wanted me to be Casey.
Although I killed her, she still means something to me.

I had to **** her in order to move on.
She knew that.
So I am Casey for her.


It means spear.
A weapon.

Fitting for a murderer.
Our prompt was to write a response to "My Name" by Sandra Cisneros. I took a slightly different approach and wrote about my deadname.
Apr 2020 · 263
Quick Write - 4/9/20
Casey Apr 2020
My favorite season
is the bite of the wind as it brushes your cheeks.
It's the cushioning of a purposeful fall.
It's the muted gray skies and the hush of the world.
It's the crunch of the frozen fractals that support and keep you from falling in.

My favorite season
is the echoes of voices bouncing from the trees,
the only sounds to be heard.
It's the coze of a warm drink and the crackles and pops of the fireplace.

My favorite season is the temporary loss of visible life
until only by my favorite season's death
does the world start to breathe once again.
Prompt was to represent our favorite season.
Casey Apr 2020
Like a swamp ****
it grows in the boiling water of saucepans.
That seems to be the only way people cook it.
It's slimy and soggy
and tastes of death.
The corpse of a once thriving plant,
now in the coffin of the saucepan.
Why would anyone see that ditch ****
and think,
"Looks edible!"
Obviously they were very wrong.
Prompt to write the opposite of an ode for food that we hate.
Casey Apr 2020
chilled in the KwikTrip fridge,
a holy grail
from the beverage

The cause of the lightness of my wallet
that waits
behind the glass.

Staring back at me.
Our prompt was to write a parody of Pablo Neruda's "Ode to a Large Tuna in the Market"
Apr 2020 · 216
Quick Write - 4/6/20
Casey Apr 2020
Take me to where the sidewalk ends.
Past the dark streets that wind and bend.
Return me to what I used to know.
Bring me to the roads diverged into the wood.
Let me take the road less traveled as I should.
I refuse to stay along this normal path.
Our prompt was to pick our favorite poem(s) and write a response.
Mar 2020 · 79
Casey Mar 2020
If I don’t cut the threads on my legs,
will gravity finally pull me down?

Am I doomed here to drown?
Save yourselves.
Feb 2020 · 138
Casey Feb 2020
Poets constantly compare
saying “this” is like “that”

If there’s anything I learned from comparison
It’s how it can **** you slowly as a poison of  expectancy.

So, to put it simply,
You are not like anything else.
There is no comparison to you,
Because you are you and nothing else I could ever describe can come close to you.
UwU (?)
I dunno I’m on my way to a forensics meet and I’m in the poetry category. Hope it goes well
Jan 2020 · 84
Casey Jan 2020
I know I promised not to,
but man,
am I bad at keeping promises.
Just another shitpost, keep scrolling
Dec 2019 · 259
for my friends
Casey Dec 2019
The decade is ending and I'm really not good with saying emotional stuff so I wrote a lil something for ya. I know I have a few other inspiriting poems, but you can never have enough.

Lemme start this off by saying how much I frickin love you guys.
Thank you for all the things you've done for me.
If it wasn't for you, I honestly have no idea where I'd be.
I've only known you guys for a few years, yet you've changed me so much for the better.
You've helped me become stronger and more confident with who I am.
You've helped me to not give up when things seem hopeless.
In my darkest moments, you guys were the lights guiding me back home.
I know that you always have my back just like how I always have yours.
Honestly, you guys need to know how frickin amazing you are.
You're worth so much more than anything of material value.
Thank you so much for being in my life.
If you ever need a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold you up, or someone to talk to, know that I'll always be there.
We've had our fair share of laughter, dumb jokes, arguments, and tears.
But through it all, every single second spent was a moment with you guys that I'll never regret.
Realize that whatever weird or crazy stuff happens between us, I'll always care about you guys.
I'll never stop caring about you guys.
Whatever next year brings, no matter how scary things will be, I know I'll make it through because I have you guys by my side.
Likewise, don't you ever give up.
Not as long as I'm here.
Because I believe in you guys.
As long as we're together in this world, I wanna make memories to last a lifetime that I can reflect on and know that I had a life well spent and a life that was fulfilling.
So let's go into 2020 with our heads held high.
Let's achieve something great this decade.
I love you guys.
Stay strong.
Stay proud.
And as always, thank you for being you.
I know two of you guys are on here, but I don't know your usernames so I can't tag you guys ughhh. Whelp, I'm just gonna hope that you find this.
Dec 2019 · 194
Casey Dec 2019
I am a "zoomer",
which means that I grew up in this past decade.

Going into 2010, I was on the edge of being seven years old.
Thinking that this is when my life will really begin.
That ever-looming question.

I look back on this decade and think,
when did my life begin?
At what point, in the past 10 years,
did I open my eyes and see the world how it is?

Was it when I was 11 on an airplane for the first time,
seeing just how small we really are?
Or perhaps when I stood on the summit of the tallest peak
of the Rocky Mountains at 13?

Maybe it was when I came out for the first time in 2016.
In eighth grade, to my closest friend.
It could've been when someone called me a *** for the first time when I was 14, and I didn't know what it meant.

Or was it when I was 15, and realized that I was trans and panromantic?
Then again, it also might've been when I was newly 16 and tried to escape.

I know it's cliché, but if I had traveled back in time to this exact day in 2010,
I don't think my younger self would recognize me,
let alone believe what I tell them about this decade.

When I was 7, I thought 2020 was going to be high tech and futuristic.
I never thought that I'd be able to travel to so many new places.
I never thought I'd be pan, or a boy.
I never thought that people could be so hateful towards my existence.
I never thought that my mom would get sick.
I never thought that I'd add myself to statistics.

And then I realize that it's 2020 very soon,
and now I'm on the edge of being 17.
I'm still asking that question.
When will my life begin?

Except, this time, I know the answer.
Bye-bye 2010's. Thanks for all the memories, but it's time to move on now.
Dec 2019 · 260
Casey Dec 2019
I know I’m one day late, but happy 2 months hrt sis :)
Casey Oct 2019
11 empty chairs,
12 empty hearts.

Careful, watch your step.
There's plenty of shards on the floor.
"Could you please stop breaking the chairs?"
(slam) "sorry---wha-"
(nervous laugh) "We kinda need them to sit on...?"
(slam) (smirk) "Oh, no, you've got it wrong. Nobody needs to sit on these. Plenty of room on the floor."
Oct 2019 · 984
Casey Oct 2019
It's not your fault.
Whatever you're thinking about blaming yourself for, It's not your fault.
I know it may sound dumb and obvious, yes, but I want you to know
it's true.

These words are now yours,
this poem is for you.

And if you must draw things against your skin,
make it a pen and not a blade.
Create something so beautiful that it would make you sob to destroy that.
Because that's <i>you</i> and you're beautiful.

Everyone glorifies being stoic and strong,
I want you to know that you don't have to be strong to make them happy.
It's okay to simply just

These are my favorite words that I've ever been told,
so now I'll tell them to you:
I love you. You will survive yourself.

No one can tell you who you are,
because only you know.
And that's a beautiful thing.

Stay proud, my friend.
Be you.
For my UwU boi
~ Caz

Sidenote: holy fricken-snackin, it's literally taken me a week to upload this because my internet *****, i'm so sorry.
Sep 2019 · 243
Don't Blame Me
Casey Sep 2019
When will you learn?
You don't play with fire unless you want to get burned.

Sunburn frickin ***** man, i am a lobster. I was gonna say something cool about how sunburn isn't really caused by fire, but yeah, it is....'cause the sun is a ball of fire. Well. Anyways. These words have been said a million times by a million different people. I don't own them.

Just another shitpost, keep scrolling.
Sep 2019 · 541
Casey Sep 2019
Thought I knew this well.
every step I had to take,
every lie--delivered smiling--I had to sell,
every mindless task, no breaks.

Thought you knew of my own created, designer hell.
watching me falter towards an imaginary goal,
watching my fibs for tells,
watching my to-do list quadruple.

I thought I knew how to quit,
how to snap out of it.
I thought you knew about it,
and how to deal with this ****.

Turns out that neither of us knows jack-squat.
And that's alright, I swear I got this, yeah I'm good, I can do it.
I hoped for you to say something, I thought you knew I was talkin' *******.
Yet, without a word, you left
me to rot.
Did you care? Did you ever even care? Did you see the signs? Did you know they were there?

Alternative Title: Doormat
**** i feel walked on
Sep 2019 · 688
Quick-Write 9/19/19
Casey Sep 2019
Prompt: Explain the story behind a picture from your camera roll
(date of picture taken: August 30th, 2019)

The picture is a simple mirror selfie, but the story has more to do with what I was wearing.
Earlier that day, I went to the mall to shop for my homecoming outfit with
my friend, (REDACTED).
It seems trivial to someone else, I guess, but to me, it was a big deal.
It was because I could drive and because we were at the mall against
my dad's wishes that added to my nervousness of it all.
I went to the boy's section of the clothing store because I'm really short,
and (REDACTED) helped me pick out a suit.
My first suit.
Just wearing the suit jacket, I couldn't help but smile like an idiot.
It was so....right.
I don't know how else to explain it.
It was as if all those little pieces just fell into place and everything felt
all right.
For once, everything in that moment felt good and perfect.
I didn't care about the curious looks from the middle-aged moms.
I felt....euphoric?
Gender euphoria.
Sep 2019 · 170
Quick-Write 9/10/19
Casey Sep 2019
The story we read in class today talked of the narrator's father
seeing his home of Italy as an old country he left behind
to carry on with what he started in the USA.
I'm not so sure that that's good.
When you forget where you come from, you forget yourself in a way.
There was a part of you that grew up and learned about life where you
used to preside.
Why would you want to lose that?
Thinking about it now, I do realize an obvious answer;
perhaps your hometown wasn't too great of a place
for someone like you, or maybe growing up there had bad
In my mom's case, she left behind the city for the country.
She grew up in (REDACTED) with people she knew for forever.
But she always told me that she knew that as soon as she left for college,
she wasn't going back to that place.
Having to go out and buy cigarettes for your parents because they
don't have their driver's license will do that to a person I guess.
We do these things called quick-writes in LA class which are short, 5 minute responses to a poem or prompt or picture or short story that the teacher provides.
Sep 2019 · 221
Casey Sep 2019
The room that we called a "porch"
because that's what it was supposed to be
before it was enclosed with walls.

The room that we used as a fridge in the winter
because of how cold it would get.

In summer,
the room where the cat would lay, sun-basking.
Shedded fur floating like petals in the air,
illuminated by the sun-streams through the window.

The room with the handy outside-facing lock
so that your brothers could lock you in
when they were annoyed with you.

The room that was renovated into a part of the house
rather than an enclosed porch.
Ending the many uses,
but still containing the memories.
Written in my LA class, inspired by Bathroom by George Ella Lyon
Sep 2019 · 270
Don't Let it Control You,
Casey Sep 2019
that's what she told me.

But without it, who I am?
I don't think I would recognize myself.
essentially another form of "get over it".
Sep 2019 · 360
Counting Sheep
Casey Sep 2019
Maybe we didn’t have to fall asleep
to be blind to what we see.
We used to stay up late,
wishing upon the stars.
Hoping for someone to hear us.
I wanted to be something greater,
change something for the better.

But any astronomer can tell you
that those stars aren’t real anymore.
They’ve died long ago.
They’ve left me staring at the ceiling in the dark,
awaiting something that will never embark.
Most of the stars that we can see are dead. The last stanza is about insomnia and also seeing the night sky as it actually is.
Sep 2019 · 636
Tragic Flaws
Casey Sep 2019
Tragic heroes have tragic flaws.
At least, that's what the sophomore language arts teacher had taught.

Juliet and Romeo,
ignorant obsession.
unchecked ambition.
Achilleus and Agamemnon,
self-righteous ego.
Tragic heroes slew by the pen for a lesson.

What about the ones that succeed?
How could they possibly have flaws?
We hold them on a pedestal for all to see.
Maybe they truly were perfect--at first.

It's easy to fake a smile.
Nothing has changed, we are the same.
Not every flaw can be seen at surface level,
and they're not necessarily vices.

For instance, loyalty.
Now that'll get you killed.
Put that into perspective,
and we're all just tragic heroes with tragic flaws.
I know this doesn't make much sense. It's content though.  Yes, I'm back!
Casey May 2019
Once upon a time,
there were 12.
12 filled chairs.
1 full table.
12 full hearts.

Then, there were 8.
4 empty chairs.
And suddenly I blinked and---

10 empty chairs.
2 empty hearts.
If you know, you know.
May 2019 · 847
If I Could Be He
Casey May 2019
If I could be He,
I'd grin ear to ear.
I'd laugh with a new voice,
and sing with boisterous cheer.

If I could be He,
I'd dance the night away.
I'd twirl around a girl,
and ask her if she'd stay.

If I could be He,
I'd no longer have to bind.
I'd lay shirtless on the beach,
and leave bottled messages to find.

If I could be He,
which I might never be,
I'd be eternally happy.
And I'd finally be me.
This is a more simplistic way of writing that I don't really do that much but it's fun. I'm afraid that I'll be stuck as "she" my whole life and honestly, that's a terrifying thought. But I know that one day I'll finally be myself. One day. I'm holding out for that.
May 2019 · 222
A Lie For the Eyes
Casey May 2019
I had a dream that I lost you.

The ground below had shattered and fallen, leaving you over an endless void.
White knuckles from clenching the railing,
you were barely holding on.

I was on the other side of this railing, safe on a sturdy platform.
You looked up at me with wild eyes, beads of sweat trickling down your face.
I outstretched my hand.

A hoarse whisper, from chapped lips, "You don't have to do this,"
I wasn't sure why I had said that.
After all, this situation hadn't been your choice.

Still, you clung there, unmoving. Just....staring.
I took matters into my own hands, and leaned over the railing,
grabbed you by the wrists in an iron manacle grip.

And then the flood came.

A torrent of rushing water broke through the chasm
as if a dam had broken wide open.
The raging currents roared their threats at us.

Your fear quickly turned to sudden confidence,
a grim smirk spread across your face.
Ripping away from my grip.

And before I could blink
You hurled yourself into the depths
Blood-curling, piercing screams.

Pinching my arms,
I can't wake up.

It wasn't a dream that I lost you.

Or did I dream of losing me?
May 2019 · 946
Sing a Little Song
Casey May 2019
Sing a little song of rain,
to wash away the heartache.
To scrub clean your skin, clench your teeth and take the pain.
"Flush out your mind, it's all fake."

Sing a little song of sun,
to crush your chest into your ribs.
To change your name, lower your head and know that respect can't be won.
"No one will believe you, you're telling fibs."

Sing a little song of wind,
to ride the kites into the sky.
To hang on tight, 'cause this tempest tears silks and requires fears to be tinned.
"Everyone watching from below had waved their goodbye."

I can no longer sing the little songs from my jaws,
my throat is swollen and raw.
The rain has flooded my thoughts,
The sun is what I have become,
From the wind, to a better place I'll be brought.
Hang in there guys :)
Apr 2019 · 171
Killed My Muse
Casey Apr 2019
We weren't ready to love;
on that, we agreed.

And now as we part ways, you ask
if you killed my muse?

No, darling,
just halted temporarily.

Lies, for it is worse.
Every past love has killed a part of me.
For many people, their art is greatly influenced by strong emotion.
Mar 2019 · 348
Selective Amnesia
Casey Mar 2019
There are times when I can't remember
what I had for breakfast,
or what I said a minute ago,
or what day of the week it is.

But the one thing I can never forget
is the way I just SAT there
and did nothing.

I can never forget the starving look in his eyes,
or the repetitive thoughts of
this isn't right, I don't want this.


"Why didn't you say no?"
I'm still so afraid...

Constant thoughts that everyone's using me, I'm just some gullible toy until they get bored.
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