A cry for help is ugly
For those who cry discreetly
And those who cry out loud
No matter the extent of pain
It is always justified
Because we all deserve a warm hug
Or a quiet and sympathetic presence

A cry for help is ugly
Because it reminds us of our own pain
It reminds us of how we think
That we don't deserve help
Because kids are starving somewhere

A cry for help is lonely
Because it is ignored, or transparent
Because it thinks itself ugly as well
Because it is helpless
Hated
Jumbled
And nonsensical

A cry for help is ugly
Because we can not feel each other's pain
But we can feel each other's fear
And most of the time
Like a human being
We care

The pain that clouds the mind
And stifles the words
Choking on a feeling of being undeserving
And drowning in a sea of self loathing

A cry for help is ugly
Because it is the ultimate form of desperation
It is a trust that reaches out for anyone
And the responsibility over another
Is a terrifying thing

Defiantly
I open my umbrella indoors
I soak up the judgmental stares
As if they were praise
For I do not let fear run my life

If hating someone because they are black is ignorant
Then shouldn't it be the same for cats?
If there's no use crying over spilled milk
Then why should we over salt?

Bad things are going to happen
Even if I spend my whole life without a mirror
Or continue throwing salt over my shoulder
Bad things will happen
So instead of blaming them on whatever
I'd rather face them head on

Because one day my mirror will break
My salt will dissolve
And my umbrella will fall apart
But until my last part stops working
I will always be able to get more

I believe in opening my umbrella indoors
So that I can be ready
Ready for the rain outside
And the rain inside

Broken promises have left an emptiness in my heart
That resonates throughout my entire being
And plagues my mind with unbearable loneliness
It is a melancholic subject that my heart reminds me of
Whenever I hear that short phrase
"I promise"

"I promise I'll stop drinking"
"I promise I won't hurt you"
"I promise I'll be there for you"
"I promise I'll spend time with you"

My trust is broken and can never be the same  
Just like Humpty Dumpty
I can never be put back together again
But the pieces that remain can still become whole
Not from all the kings men
But from one man
Or even one woman

I feel that if I met someone who made a million promises
And kept them all with exceptions of course
Then my trust in them could be that of a stone
Instead of an egg

But who would want to waste that much effort
On one tiny insignificant person
I feel like Humpty after all his mourners
Went away do to the stench of his rotting flesh
That no one could bare the discomfort
That came with making me whole once more

I'd probably notice first,
How they looked
Maybe there would be some who never cut their hair short,
Because they liked being just another face in the crowd
Maybe it would be because they were really girly,
Or because they were too afraid to be different.
I'd probably notice second,
How they talked
Maybe some would speak of conformity,
Out of fear or spirituality
Maybe some would be rude and inconsiderate,
And some would care too much.
the third thing I would definitely notice,
Is how successful they were
Some would have straight As,
And some would have dropped out years ago
Some would live in a beautiful home,
And some on the streets.
But the last thing that I would notice,
The thing that would hit me the hardest
Is how much happier some are,
Or how much smarter,
Or how handsome or beautiful
I'd see how much better off some of them were,
And I don't know how I'd react
Maybe some of I would fall apart,
Maybe some would become stronger
But at the same time,
the me who is I
Would realise,
That they are not me
What makes up me,
Are my past experiences and lessons
And I could waste my time dreaming of being them,
But I'd rather spend it making myself better than them
Better in the way that maybe only I value,
But I don't need the envy of others to enjoy my own merits.

It angers me when my peers are selfish and inconsiderate
And half the time I do what everyone else does
I ignore it
But on the rare days when I decide to speak up
I'm the one being ignored
Then I argue
And then I reflect
I know they're being childish and stubborn
But is what I'm doing childish as well
Is it childish to argue the small things
I don't want to be childish
But I guess I must settle sometimes
Because I'd rather be the one ignored
Than the one who ignores
Even though it's more comfortable ignoring
Even if it pushes people away
Because I believe people need to be pushed
Outside their comfort zone
If no one speaks up
They'll feel comfortable being selfish
And this world will become a place
Inhibited by people who only look out for their best interest

I met a Cupid once,
At my cousin's wedding
Androgynous and gay,
It Fluttered among the joyful guests,
Dancing to it's heart's content
It's heart that overflowed and bathed the guests with it's love
I asked the Cupid, "what is your name?"
They responded, "I do not have one.
But it could be Johnny,
That's the name of a boy who spoke things,
Things I loved.
So I mimicked his nose."
"So your name is Johnny?"
"Not necessarily."
"Then what is it!"
"It could be Annie,
That's the name of a girl who never betrayed love,
I love people who are loyal to love.
So I mimicked her kind, honey-filled voice."
"You sure do say love a lot."
"Well of course, I'm a Cupid!"
"Let me guess, you loved a kid named Alex so you mimicked their eyes?"
"Actually it was her teeth."
"Well alright then Frankenstein."
"Did you just name me?"
"It was a nickname, a joke."
The Cupid laughs gaily
"I love the things you say."
"They're nothing but a bunch of annoying questions."
"But you're curious about love aren't you, little one?
That's why you're curious about me."
I stubbornly avoid their eyes
"Look away for too long and love will disappear."
"Why should I care, Frankie?"
"Now I'm sure you named me!"
My childish antics seemed to amuse the Cupid,
But their antics seemed to draw my attention in as well
It's smile softened and in one sentimental assault it said
"I love you."
That word rubs me the wrong way,
and coming from Frankie it was no different
Too many people abuse it,
Making it cheap and worthless
But something pure about the sparkle in Frankie's eyes,
The wrinkle in their nose,
The sincerity in their voice,
And their big toothy grin,
Hit my heart like an arrow on the bullseye,
And made my chest feel warm and fuzzy
That feeling stayed with me long after the Cupid had gone
And I thought to myself
"I don't dislike this feeling...
In fact
I might just love it."