The guy with the rainbow Afro
Till you get to know him
And he becomes
Your best friend
Adam

Blank canvas
                       Empty
                                 Flat
                                       White
                                                  But,
                                             Potential

A soft shy smile
Heart-
LubDub
LubDub
So cute!
High pitched little voices
In their own world
Eager
to please
to laugh
to experience
To live

Lives inside
      A monster
Picking at
      everything new
Pointing out
       everything wrong
With your life
With them
With you

When
Your helping her helping him
It’s for your own gain
Either it benefits you
It makes you feel good or better about yourself
It’s someone you love or like
All of these are for yourself
There is no “selfless”

But

Neither is it selfish
People connotate
selfish
With bad
It doesn’t have to be
Why should we
Do something if we have no motivation?

Motivation
Comes from
Us having some stake
Some benefit
Something to gain
Some reason to act
To speak
To behave

So it’s not selfish
I the cynic would say,
Nor is it selfless
There is no such thing
It’s simply the cogs and mechanics
That turn
And enable us to act
Speak
Behave
Work

Because why would we do anything without a reason
even if that reason happens to be boredom
or curiosity?

Golden light spills out in between the crevices and cracks
The world seems still save for the slight wave and rustle of each branch conversing with the wind visible to a discerning eye
Somewhere off in the distance a machine rumbles
The click of a light turning off
A voice calls out
Another mutters
Not still
Not completely peaceful either
But not loud either
Pleasant
A sense of comfort
A sense of security
just the way I like it

Buried in a hole
                           Pain?
                      Nah
Numb...
                Eh
Numb...
               Short circuiting
Numb...
               Fluffy ponies
Numb...
               Sleep, who she be?
Numb...
               Crinkle, the package opens
Numb...
               Blurry vision
Numb...
               Hysterical
Numb...
               No tears
Numb...
               Wave of self deprecation
           Self pity
        Wow
       I'm pretty pathetic
...
Oh well
  A
    Problem
      For another
         Day

Crystalline pearls
    Bleary vision
      The facade of strength brutally ripped off
         Money
         Genius
         Strength
          What does it all matter?
        All that’s left is me
      And despite it all
    despite the gaping hole in my chest
  My lips remain upturned
at the thought of you

So many people want to be
DIFFERENT
To stand out
Be unique, brilliant, and attractive
like a shining star
So many people want to be the
same
To conform
To fit in and belong like feet in a
snug pair of shoes
But, why?
When one always wants the other is one really better?

When you watch the sun set
what do you see?
The world aglow with
The sun’s last melody
A parting farewell
Or perhaps
A last clinging hope
To keep one good friend
Or at least imprint
A memory in our hearts
Of glimmering lights with orange hue
Before the sun rise starts anew
And our previous memories are washed away
As our mind turns to small common place affairs
And we start another day

In second grade my student number was 16
New school
New friends
Boy problems like a sixteen year old girl
Lamenting over
My crush leaving the state
But I still remember
he didn’t pick me to cut cut his goodbye cake
In third grade my student number was 12
From sixteen to twelve years
My immaturity dropped
To new heights
As I began crushing on Crush #1’s best friend
Too shy
Otherwise he may leave too
No friends either
Except one
Who cheated me out of a bag of oyster crackers while trading at lunch
In fourth grade my student number was 14
Little more maturity
Or at least I thought I was
Like a fourteen year old girl
A shining star, doing gymnastics on the railing for then handicapped ramp
And our very own fashion show
On the grassy hill in the playground
In fifth grade my student number was 15
I was like a big girl now
I had my own best friends
I didn’t need a crush-who cared about iky romance?
In sixth grade my student number was 25
My own maturity soared
While my friend’s dropped
As my friend’s hearts were broken
And age long friendships broke apart
I was the helpless observer
No drama of my own (thankfully)
But plenty from all other sides
And so came the end of my elementary school years and my innocence along with it.

She is older,
she is younger,
I'm in the middle.
She is taller,
she is shorter,
I'm in the middle.
She is smarter,
she is dumber,
I'm in the middle.
She is faster,
she is slower,
I'm in the middle.
She is talkative,
she is quiet,
I'm in the middle.
She is prettier,
she is uglier,
I'm in the middle.
They are polar opposites,
and I'm in the middle.
Everyone notices black and white,
but what about shades of gray?