I’m running,
so far.

I’m running until the pain stops.
That unbearable pain in my chest,
I just want it to fly away,
as if it’s a bird flying away from its cage.

I’m running until the tears stop falling.
Those tears streaking down my face,
Leaving a stain.

I’m running,
So very far…

All I want is for it to stop,
WHY WON’T YOU STOP!
please just stop!

Make the tears disappear,
make the pain fade away,
and the running,
Oh the running,
make that dreadful running stop!

Please,
put an end to it all,
just once,
make everything go away.

But until then,
I’ll continue to run,
so,
     so,
           far...

Dear Me,
Did we follow our dreams?
Did you accomplish our goals?
I’m fine right now,
Just wondering about you.

Dear Me,
Did we do something that we can be proud of?
Did we give up?
Did we make it through all those tough times?

Dear Me,
What are we like in the future?
Did we grow as a person?
Are we a better version of who we are now?
Does it ever get better?

Dear Me,
I think no matter what you tell me we’ll be fine.
Maybe that’s false hope,
But maybe it’s not.
Maybe we should have had more of that sparkle in our eyes.
Would that have made the effort worth every ounce I’ve wasted so far?
Maybe...

Dear Me,
I hope we’re doing fine,
Maybe we can do what we’ve always wanted.
Maybe instead of living in fear,
drenched in anxiety,
We could live our life the way we had hoped.

Dear Me,
What do you think?
Is this a good idea?
Yeah it is...

It was an idea to me for the longest time.
Until I met her,
Her brown eyes,
Her massive paws,
And her dumbo like personality.
When I saw her picture I fell in love.
Instead of hope being an idea she was real.
I could finally see the idea I've always imagined.
She was 12 weeks when we first got her.
Her fur was soft and her ears were long.
And her face lit up my world like fireworks during Fourth of July.
I fell in love with Hope and got to take her home.
She's my everything.
The only thing I need when I feel an ounce of sadness within my heart, is to look in her eyes and I know everything will be alright cause I have her.
Hope is my light at the end of the tunnel.
And I cherish her with all my being.
The beautiful thing she is.

I hate that you're the only thing I see when I close my eyes.
I hate that.
I hate the way your old hands touched my young skin,
I hate the way you made my young hands touch you.
I was a naive trusting little lamb,
You, you were a big deceiving lion,
And I was your prey.
I wanted to learn and you were willing to teach,
But there was a miscommunication of what was meant to be taught.
You wanted to teach me how to touch you,
And I wanted to learn how to spell.
I never did learn how to spell the only word I needed.
Help.
I didn't learn anything to be honest,
Only the fear of love,
Of touch,
Of men; including my own father, uncle, and grandfather who has a hard time writing his own name.
I feared walking into school and it only got worse as time went on.
But Mr. Kiss,
If that's even your real name,
I want to thank you.
You did teach me something that I'll always hold with me,
You taught me what it's like out in the "real" world.
You taught me the most valuable thing I know;
Not everyone is who they claim to be.
You can hide, repress, ignore all the memories you want;
But hiding, repressing, ignoring doesn't undo the damage already done.
Me, growing and loving and treating people the way I wasn't treated is what will help to heal the booboos you left behind.
So, again, Mr. Kiss, thank you for doing your "job" and teaching me what I needed to know.
Sincerely;
Not a victim,
But a girl with feelings.

It’s fragile.
You shouldn’t drop something that can easily be broken.

The glass heart sits on the empty shelve,
Waiting.
And as time goes by the shine it once possessed,
Was gone.

With dust covering it,
it waits.

Waits for the one soul who’ll wipe away the dust,
And bring back the shine.

So the fragile glass heart,
On that empty shelve,
Waits for its pair.

Time flies and the heart is still waiting.
Dust continues to spread,
Hope begins to fall,
And loneliness consumes that once beautiful,
Fragile Glass Heart.
It’s sad how something once so admired can be so alone.

But that well known phrase,
“One mans trash, is another man's treasure.”
Shows to be true.

The hearts waiting comes to a stop,
When one other lonely soul ventures into the unknown.
He notices the Fragile Glass Heart,
and with the heart in hand he journeys home.

He cleans the dust,
Places it on a new shelve,
With other hearts.
And that Lonely Fragile Glass Heart,
Doesn’t feel so alone.

Grandmother,
I ceased to exist when you died.

My mom loved you.
You were her mother so of course she loved you.

I have always wondered what you were like,
I’ve heard stories,
seen pictures,
but they’re not the same as the real thing.

But that’s ok,
because when I hear about you,
I feel as if I know you,
I feel a type of warmth in my heart knowing that you were once real.
I love the stories and I hold onto them.
I’ll hold onto them with my last breath till the day I meet you.

Grandmother,
I might not have met you,
but you’re a part of me,
and that part I’m going to hold close to my heart.
Till the end of time,
You’ll be with me.
Always.

Freaks,
It’s what we are.
We are the Elephant Man,
The Lobster Boy,
and The bearded lady.

It’s who we were destined to be.
The only people strange enough to do it,
the outcasts of the world.

We perform our whole lives,
living a lie,
wearing a mask.
But at night,
when we are alone,
we transform into the strangest oddities,
our true selves.

We’re treated like freaks,
but that’s all we are.
The circus loons,
living a lie,
wishing,
just wishing
we could be ourselves,
the real freaks we we’re born to be.

If only the spotlight would move so we could come out of the dark,
and take our place as the people we really are,
not the freaks,
or the circus loons,
just us.