There once was a tale,
(a legend more like)
Of a girl who lived in a clock.
In between the gears and springs,
Away she was locked

All of her days she worked tirelessly
Every second,
Minute,
Hour.
Moving the parts,
Pushing the gears,
To make it tick nicely,
Tock precisely,
Pleasing to the ears.

Never did she complain,
Only perfect timing she did obtain.


Then one day,
It stopped.
The watch did not tick,
Nor did it tock.
Some say she died;
I say otherwise.

She left the clock
Wild and free,
And now she wanders endlessly.

But one more thing lies in the myth my dear
In every watch that ticks,
And clock that tocks,
There is a girl
Just
Like
Her.

Twisting, turning, churning, swirling
My heart is a maelstrom
Consuming emotion
Twisting endlessly  
Swirling perpetually  
Tossing on the water
A beautiful, impassioned, blue maelstrom.

Twisting, turning, churning, swirling  
My heart is a leaf
Consuming peace
Hovering incessantly
Soaring tirelessly  
Tossing in the wind  
A beautiful, tranquil, green leaf.

Twisting, turning, churning, swirling
My heart is a blaze  
Consuming wrath
Flaming constantly  
Combusting continualy  
Tossing in the fire
A beautiful, violent, red, blaze

Twisting, turning, churning, swirling,
My heart is a stone
Consuming structure  
Tumbling boundlessly
Crumbling unendingly  
Tossing on the earth
A beautiful, exact, brown, stone.

Empathy is the key to our society some say
put yourself in their shoes they say

but I do

I do it too much.
I feel for them too much.

Every time I see their tears
its a punch to the chest
it shatters my glass ribs
and punctures my nylon heart.

But to my own tears,
to my own suffering
I feel nothing.
still.
dry.
numb.

Maybe I am a mirror
only reflecting the pain I see.

Or maybe I have been told
it's weak to cry
cowardly to feel bad for myself
nerveless to struggle.

So I continue to cry for the broken
hurt for the rejected
and ache for the beaten

leaving nothing left for myself.

Clouds yell angrily
Rain eats at the ground
Screaming chaos  
swirls all around

My head rolls back  
My eyes turn pitch black
My mind starts to crack
My grip begins to snap

I know I'm not crazed
I know I'm still sane
But the wind still rattles  
This broken window pane

I have to move
I have to do something
I know I'll lose it if I do nothing


I don’t feel okay
I don’t feel fine
I'm plagued by something  
I cannot define

I feel dead
Yet also alive
I'm starting to wonder  
if I'll survive

My mind goes astray
My head starts to sway
I have to run,
I have to get away.  

Something pierces my petrified panic  
  
Permeating peace
Out of darkness I fall
Hearing heaven’s call
Perfect release  



Though I’m still left sore
From that horrid dream
God, it seems,  
sees so much more

Poetry is not a hobby
one can practice a hobby
showcase it
compete against others

But poetry can't be forced
No one can just sit and write
without having experianced
pain
bliss
love
woe
calm
chaos

There must be feeling or emotion
the distruction of monotony
somthing much more
than just words
on a page.

Success is for the taking;
Limits are for the breaking.
Spirits free,
Chains we flee
History for the making.

Why do we fear to fail;
Remaining weak and pale?
Comfort zone  
Monotone
Safety we entail.

Instead we should be strong  
Enduring all day long
Bold and brave
Freedom we crave
Singing life's theme song


Go.

They say we should take away guns
If those were gone we would use blades,
If those were gone we would use stones,
If those were gone we would use poison
If those were gone we would use our tainted, hateful, bare hands.

               
Humans always find a way to hurt one another
Guns don't **** people; people **** people.
Changing what's in our hands won't make a difference,
Changing what's in our hearts will make all the difference