I could stare in the mirror for hours
but not because I'm pretty
or think I am
I wonder how people perceive me
if they truly think my smile
I wonder if people can see through
the walls I've had up
I wonder if people can see the ropes
my parents try so hard
to bind me in
I wonder if people think I'm crazy
when I walk through the halls
talking to thin air.
I wonder if people can see how hard
I try to not look like
I wonder if he knows that I love him
but only ever as
I wonder if I will ever see
that I'm more than just
I've been kicked to the curb
it doesn't hurt
or so I've told myself
My mental health
hides with stealth
It's all just in my head
I go to bed
It'll all be better tomorrow
***** my sorrow
all I do is whine
I'm totally fine
Or so I've told myself
I'm never the first one to say 'I love you,'
but at least you're the last thing I think about
before I fall asleep.
Orange in my mouth
a split-second smile your way
makes you young again
We are the freaks
a ragtag band of kids
who would rather sit together than alone.
Who will always make a joke to your face
instead of your back.
Who get side stares in the hallways
because we don't care if people think we're too loud,
or too weird.
We're the kids who worry about not fitting in
yet don't care
because we fit in with each other.
We are the freaks.
My first poetry slam left me feeling empty.
As if I were holding everyone’s feelings in the palms of my hands.
My teacher read with a straight face,
her voice as dry as sand.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The poems were anonymous but some of them
I was sure would earn a kid or two a call home,
sounding like a cry for help or suicide threat.
And even though we were just a high school class
some kids wrote with a brushstroke of color,
sure to one day be an aspiring author.
But me, my writing was beige
quick and to the point without much room for one to ponder
a poem or two about unrequited love that the kids called
But that day as I walked out
I didn’t feel cute or cool or even creative.
I felt a weight on my shoulders,
heavier than even my backpack filled with textbooks
I felt burdened
A ngelic hair forms a halo on her head
S apphire eyes reading my soul
T insel wings strapped to her back
O nly the two of us in this heaven
N othing but the cotton candy clouds
I mpressionist's world
S oothing sound as she sings
H ow in the hell did I get here?