We are trees,
society tries to tame our roots,
tries to have a leash,
take hold, possess control
on the colour of our leaves.

If it wishes for us
to grow golden leaves,
then we must confirm.
When we don't,
it throws us into a fire
to make us realize that
our roots are important...
as long as society approves.

But what society
doesn't understand
is that some of us
do not like being flourescent.
Some of us prefer
to leave a mark, leave a gap
and become evanescent.



Sorry for the super ******
word ***** poem but I just
*needed to write.

"Just be there"
but what do you mean?
"Be there" as in
"Come and bathe in my sorrows,
give up your existence
and drown with me?"
or "Be There" as in
"Believe my lies,
don't question if I'm really alright
and let's both fake it out?"

Because I really cannot
"be there" the way you'd want me to,
I really cannot vanish for you,
I really cannot wish for you to be gone,
that's just not how "being there" is done.

I'm sorry that some have
been cruel and shameless
and planted thorns in your skin,
I'm sorry you do not know
where self hate ends,
and self love begins,
but do not cut the hands
of those who always try
to lift you up;
you can't be surprised
when everyone gives up.
**Enough is enough.

Lights jumping acrossed basement walls
Music playing to loud
And people standing far too close
Kisses exchanged in the heat
Of a sweaty basement
A sticky floor, covered in glitter and alchol
Girls bending over
Guys eyes full of hunger
Hips sway to the beat,
getting nasty with the heat

I Will Never Give Up on You  
By: Miranda Martinez-Perez  

I've  been to a place "they" would consider "the top,"
And it felt great... that was.. until I fell.
It was a long way down. Would it hurt? I thought not;
And I was wrong, cause it hurt like H*ll.

I've hit rock bottom with an awful THUD.
Took me a while to realize I was still alive.
I wondered if it'd even be worth it to get back up..
Then pondered if I should just accept this is how I would die.

But something inside of me wasn't ready to fail.
I wasn't  ready to give up the fight.
In my mental prison, I chose to make bail.
I can't change my wrongs, but I can make them right.

So I got up, though it took all that I had left inside,
Went to that place that for so long I feared.
I knew the first one with whom I had to make things right,
that one was the one looking back in the mirror.

"I'm sorry," I said, "your expectations were not too much.
I admit I've just let myself get in the way.
I never took it into consideration that I alone am enough.
And all the extras in life were only for show and play.

You are perfect, I love you, and I am going to change.
I don't deserve for you to believe me, but I swear it's true."
The response I got.. I never expected to hear MYSELF say..
That was, "I will never  give up on you."

Lumumba is a cool teen.
That's their thought, not his
he fills rot inside
But looks nice outside
He keep things deep soul
They can't see it at all
They celebrate his smile
He cry his heart
He is hurt
They can't notice that
No don't blame his hat
you once sat together on a mat
Being shaved by Matella
But you were always brainwashed
He's calling
Need your salvage
Save his soul
Please
He is me