You don't know what is like
To lay awake at night
And watch the Shadow creep in.
They wave and mock as they reach out
Trying to pull me in.

Your arm is suppose to be the light that holds them back,
Yet it feels more like a weight holding me still.
You don't trap me on purpose
Just blinded by your own light.

You don't know what is like
To lay awake at night
To listen to invisible sounds.
My bones stiff boards under
Creeks and Cracks.
The voices always telling me something is waiting.

Your light shines so bright that it dims your will
You could hear what I hear if your ears weren't ringing.
A pin drop could wake you
But my internal screams put you to sleep.

When will you see past your light
And see the fight
I am about to lose

When will you hear my screams
And help my dreams
From trapping me inside.

When will you know what it's like
To lay awake at night

Every time you lied your eyes changed colors.
The time you said you were fine
they were sea green.
The time you said you would be there
they were blue with little golden specks.
The time you made a promise
they were glowing emerald green.
The time you said you loved me
they were as blue as a summer sky.

Your lies had led me into believing
in you,
in hope,
in love.
When all you truly did
was feed me to the demons in your soul.

The demons laugh saying
"you fell for every lie he told,
did you not see it?
did you not catch the change in his eyes?
from sea green
to blue with little golden specks.
From glowing emerald green eyes
to the ones as blue as a summer sky."

The difference between then and now.
I can see through your lies.
I can heal my demons by beating yours.
I can be strong within and out.
You aren't holding the chains wrapped around my life.
I am.

You laugh every time I write.
My A's look like O's.
My M's are N's.
My B's are D's.

Word is a blurry mess of letters in every direction,
begging for me to put them into something coherent.

But to me, this is how it is
Slemi
Reda
Pojerct

My phrases are backward like the wiring in my brain.
Reading and writing every day only numbs the headaches.

3,271 days,
A tiny seed hit the fields of West Michigan.
Fields of envy bloomed,
A family of two,
A mother and a father,
Came to view the beauty.
They take the tiny seed,
And give it a home to view,
This unique flower’s growth.

Two years late,
The flower bloomed into a young girl.
Living life,
At the reckless age of 17.
Questioning the world around her,
But never questioning her purpose in life.

Her brown hair,
Inherited from her father and the ancestors,
Who roamed this land before her.

Her hazel eyes,
Given to her,
From the opportunity she has grasped,
In her tiny hands.

Her off-shade of pale skin,
Given to her by a mixture of neglect and love.
This is better than the milky cream
Of neglect she known before.

The body she calls herself
Is filled with scars,
From the inside and the out.
Yet they heal,
From the love she has received,
And from those who are close to her heart.

Her slim hands
Embrace the shaking habits of anxiety and social issues
In which she has yet to conquer.

Her mind
Unable to grasp the facts she hears every day,
But comprehends,
The darkness that has claimed her as a home.

She found home,
In the family she was given.
In the life she had the opportunity to live.
In the role she was meant to play.
She did her part.
She did her role.

Freshman.
Living life like out of a book.
Holding onto the storybooks,
Their parents read to them when they were babies.
Now wanting to be the epitome of school.
Hitting school like a bomb,
Being North Korea against our school of Trump,
And reaching standards unknown to any man or woman before them.
They just throw their “Perfect” shape right into someone’s face,
And say HA!

To reach the standard of perfection,
They spend money on beauty.
Just styling themselves like the Kardashians,
And following Kylie Jenner’s shot glass lips challenge.
“Trends” is just another word for a wannabe utopian.
With parents, there is no worry over money,
As long as they are happy.

Happiness is Perfection.
Key to perfection is starvation.
Because being too big isn’t “pretty.”
Compare yourself,
To the preppy blonde cheerleader who thinks she is perfect,
cause she can shake her hips to the music.
To be like her you skip meals,
A day,
maybe two,
or even a week.
You're told, ”Go on a diet, you need it!”
To bad a genie can't make us skinnier with a snap of his fingers.

The genie did change the style.
Yelling “Attention!”
“The trends have changed.”
“Floral is now in.”
“So rid of those nasty old outfits, and pick up the new.”
“Paint yourself in the vision of everyone’s flower.”
“Invest in the fashion trends that make us “cool”.”

Now that you have the style,
You need friends.
Your bullies tease you,
“Oh lost puppy dog,
With your lonely eyes and scarce heartbeat,
Searching for someone to love you,
Too bad no one will.”
Dive head first into the sea of hope and status quo.
Taking in the account of who they dated,
Or what sport they are good at.
Cause Lord forbid you are friends with your ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend.
So stay clear of the nuclear reactors,
And just keep building your fumes,
With death glares and eye rolls.

“Oh No someone hold my earrings.”
Your ex is dating your best friend.
“SINCE WHEN!”
He isn’t worth losing your best friend over.
But you only argue and fight.
So start World War 3.
Be a slave to your own mistakes.

One mistake you didn’t make was advice on dating.
OH Wait,
You messed that up too.
The hottest guy in school was the one who held your heart,
Well sorry to say,
You aren’t good enough.
Oh, you want to catch his attention now?
Then attach yourself to his side,
Like a leech ******* all the attention from him.
Draining him of his status.
Just so you give up,
And say he wasn’t good enough.

Just like you weren’t good in school.
Boring lessons,
That makes you question when in life will I need this skill?
You think,
Oh, I will marry a rich guy and sit at home looking pretty.
REALITY CHECK.
Focus in school so you can sit at home and look pretty,
When you retire.

Gasp You are a rich girl.
Wait till I tell everyone what I just saw.
Such a disgrace!
No Lies.
No secrets.
Well too bad,
We know everything and tell everyone.
We can destroy you even if it isn’t true.
So keep your mouth shut,
Or don’t.

Miss Perfect of 2018 doesn’t spread rumors though.
She is too busy,
Getting her dad to pay for her.
Her $100 acrylic nails,
And $200 designer purse.
That is what you get when you meet a preppy cheerleader.
Daddy’s money is what causes happiness.

You can take daddy’s money and pay your friends.
No need for real friends,
Not if you are the most popular girl in school.
So be gullible and laugh at all their jokes and they will love you,
Not!

So Congratulations.
You are now the biggest brat in the school.
Don’t want all of this,
Be Yourself.

I breath
I see
But why?

I am the same
as a mere shadow
of nothing more then
flesh and bone.
A thought
A dream

Me
Just me.
Alone
But never Lonely
Afraid
But never Scared
Real
But Unreal
Sane
Yet Insane
Lost
And never Found
Alive
Yet also Dead.

Darkness
Loneliness
Frightened

I am a thought
A Dream
A being of flesh and bone
One that no one will see

There are many days I hang my head in shame.
There are days I wonder if this is the right time era for me.
I tell myself that one day, some way there is going to be someone.

Someone to love me for the way,
that I don't know how to work a make-up brush,
but I can paint the most beautiful flower.

Someone to understand me,
from the way I can walk away from the saddest death
with my face tearless,
but hold the burden of not showing emotion.

Someone who appreciates my way of emotion,
through the words, I spread across a blank sheet,
the words that hold inner meaning
and a secret path to my mind.

I ask that I can be gently reminded that this is just a dream...
No one like this exists in the real world...
But they can in my brain.
And so,
I will live in my mind.
I will dream until the light goes out.
I am someone.
I will
love
understand
appreciate.

Hand to hand.
A piece of your heart
Give to the last
The first piece recieved back
Swallowed by poison
Raging and bubbling
Words roared and shackles locked.
The piece darkens the rest of your heart
As you bow helpless
And anger rolls off in waves.
A Stanger leans over
Offering his whole heart.
As you take it and listen,
The darkness shrinks away.
You pray for forgiveness,
The shackles break.
Your free now.

You allow you heart to accept the light.
Hope rushes in.
You hand a piece of your heart.
You speak of hope in the light
And of this stranger in your testimony.
As a new lost person accepts the seed of your heart
Allowing it to flourish
To grow.
Their shackles break.
The light
The hope
And in the stranger
Named Jesus,
They are hope

The world so cold,
No emotions
No words
No movement

Everything seems to be still
This Utopian world
It is only perfect to those who force it to be.
No crime
No deaths
No sadness.

I am different
I see the colors that no one else sees
Red
Orange
Yellow
Green
Blue
Purple.
I hear the cries of victims
I hear the tears of weeping souls
I heal the hearts of the broken
I am different.

I don't want to be normal
I'd rather be the only one.
I'd rather be the reason this world is not
A Utopia.