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."

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

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

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.

Remember when I told you I wanted to marry someone just like you?

How young and naive I was then

You were my idol and someone whom I trusted so deeply

Everything that was cruel and unkind stared me straight in the eyes but still I couldn't see it

I was blinded by trust and the hope that the person I loved would be there tomorrow even if he wasn't here today

I adopted your philosophies and your interests in a desperate attempt to be seen and favored

Your word and your opinion had all the power in the world to shape who I was and how I would think

But I'm not your favorite anymore, am I?
No one is

I'm no longer useful now that I have gained the ability to think for myself

My interests were never something you cared about as long as they didn't benefit you

The only thing that matters to you is drowning your shame until the person I love is unrecognizable

Marry someone like you?
I don't even want to be like you.

Some of my poems
are the embodiment of my current emotions
In my minds eye
It sells my feelings short
And makes them feel cheap
By summing them up in a short and sweet verse
So they are untitled

My name is of no importance
Neither is yours
All that matters are our feelings
And our hearts

Your gender and sexuality is of no amusement
Because it does not define either of us
Don't sell yourself short
We are more than we are

Whether we enjoy titles
Or can not find a use for them
Whether we want to scream our existence to the world
Or remain anonymous
It is our words that will set us free

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

Once upon a time there was a girl who loved to bathe. She would clean herself numerous times a day. When asked why she was so obsessed with being clean, she would simply answer "because it makes me feel light." The girl would often climb on to her roof and feel the wind tug at her and lure her towards the edge, but she was never afraid of falling. The girl loved the wind... No, she envied it. Every scent the wind brought with it entertained her curious mind, as did every cool breeze and gentle gust. The wind is free to travel wherever it pleased, it could not be touched yet it could touch whatever it wished to. Such a romantic life the wind leads. Whenever the girl felt light, she felt as though she was closer to being taken by the wind, swept away to anywhere and nowhere. But as time went on the girl fell ill, and gradually felt a heaviness that no amount of bathing could wash away until she was weighed down, confined to her bed. The girl knew she had little time left on the earth, and spent her days listening for the wind until one night she felt as though it beckoned to her. With every ounce of strength the girl had left, she hauled her frail body out on to the roof and once again felt the weight lifting magic of her wind. It pulled her towards the edge but the girl no longer resisted, she had neither the strength nor the will. As the girl's feet lost their ground, she broke into a million ribbon like pieces that floated away and disappeared into the wind, leaving only a limp, lifeless body on the ground below.

Every verse is a feeling in my moment
The moment I live as I breathe
It's not much but it's what I have to give
Rhymes hold me back
Humor that may provoke
Opinions that accept judgment
That is me
I mean well
If you'll have me, I'll have you.

From my earliest memories
To present day
I have always filled the emptiness
Found in any situation
With incredible adventures
Fabricated by the imagination
Some of them would be a dream of envy
Wishing to escape my own world
But no matter what book, movie, or story I entered
They would eventually fall apart as they grew tiresome
Because there is nothing substantial in envy
Even in the fun it could bring
Reality will always win against our dreams
But dreams give us the conviction
To work towards our desires
The other variety my dreams came in
Was that of exitment and curiosity
About how a situation would or could unravel in reality
These dreams took take place in my world
Still, they would fade as well
Because the moment and opportunity that I dreamt of
Would eventually pass
Whether it had gone the way I imagined or not
At the end of the day
Our dreams are no more, and no less
But if there's one thing I've learned from them
It's that all of our stories
Are something we write
Even if they're affected by outside influences
And the one story that will stick by you
Is the one we call reality

I do not wipe away my tears
fearing what I will see when my vision clears
Whether they're warm or cold
I won't deny the meaning they hold

As the rock I feel I can't reveal that I too am weak
So I find comfort in the little hugs on my cheeks
In times when I choke my cries and hide my frowns
My tears are always around

Is it better to be entirely useless or partly great?
Depends I guess.
What does it mean to be useless?
What does it mean to be great?
If I am useless, may I choose to be great?
If I don't want to be great, does that make me useless?
If I am useless,
and being partly great means that I am partly not myself,
Then I'd rather be entirely useless.
I'd rather be entirely me.

There is a woman known far and wide
For the pleasures she brings to those by her side
She is always here, her presence inescapable
I can never avoid her tragic parable

Her beautiful glow distracts from her other reputation
Her influence has its hold on my entire nation
I can never understand why someone so hated
Has both men and woman so easily baited

She seduces people with false promises of comfort
But makes them lonely and depressed, rejecting any cohort
Leaving no one to return to but her
It seems everyone I love prefers this loathsome flavor

Watching the news
Laughing with faces lit
Why is it that we put tragedy as the focus
When we only ignore it

I am as guilty as many of you
Saying "that's so sad"
While secretly being grateful
It abhors me

But why not be grateful?
I think more people need appreciation
At least I'm aware of my selfishness
Or is saying that even more egotistical?

Hypocrite or not
I hate the part of me that shrugs at the misfortune of others
I hate the part of me that looks away
I hate the part of me that hates.

You know less when you think you know more

I want to tell him
But he only makes me feel like the bad guy
When I bring it up
I'm scared to tell him my feelings
But I need to
Do I even have the right?

I know that I'm right
Only I can tell him
I want to say it too
Because I'm the only one who hasn't, this guy
I don't care if I hurt our relationship, because my feelings,
they're important too. I should just hurry up.

I don't want this to blow up
My feelings are so much easier to write
I wonder if he even cares about my feelings
When I cry, I can't even be comforted by him
Because he's the reason I cry, this guy
I wonder if he cries too.

Just when I think I'm at my last straw, I find two
When he's drunk I can tell him to shut up
I can be rude or honest with the guy
But that's only because he always forgets, right?
I love him
That's why I don't want to hurt his feelings.

He's hurt everyone's feelings
I wonder when he comes to
If he realizes that it's not just him
That he's hurting and messing up
I wonder if he cares what is right
I wonder if he sees that he's no longer my hero, but the bad guy.

I don't want to hurt my relationship with this guy
But he hurt it first by disregarding my feelings
"So sorry" "So sorry" "So sorry" like that's ******* right
I want to hurry up and grow up so I can leave too
Even after all this I still crave his approval and it's ****** up
Maybe I can be more honest when I'm not depending on him.

I really wish I could tell him
I'm too much of a coward to speak up
I'm too afraid that he won't listen like I want him to.

Running around the still night
I can barely believe it’s true
Nothing could feel more right
Than being here with you

I can barely believe it’s true
Nothing seemed more impossible
Than being here with you
It’s nothing short of phenomenal

Nothing seemed more impossible
Being in such close proximity
It’s nothing short of phenomenal
Surely this is serendipity

Being in such close proximity
Nothing could feel more right
Surely this is serendipity
Running around the still night