I'm still young,
I know I have time,
I'm probably not even a quarter into my life.
Yet I feel like time is running out.
I want to grow up,
But not because I wish to throw out my childhood,
To leave the safety of my nest,
To jump into the open world.
Truth be told I'm scared.

But for some reason I wish to age.
To have a job,
To live by myself,
To try independence-

I want to fall in love,
I want something more,
More than ***** high school romance.
I want life.
I want to live.

And although now I feel empty,
Hollow,
Lonely,
I know I won't be one day.
Or at least I hope I won't be.

Hidden under countless sheets,
Behind lock and key,
Like I'm scared they'll see.

I really do love poetry,
The way it feels to write,
To feel.

But I find myself embarrassed,
When in conversation,
A poetic stream slips out, free across the screen.

I don't know why I fear it so,
Or hope that it would go,
But I wish I didn't feel like this.

It's true that it's poetry I miss.

Here,
Here I am.
I’ve always wanted to be
Here.
But not for long.

Talent is relative,
And mine is falling.

So I’ll be sent back,
Into confused arms.
They will welcome the love,
Though they will not understand it.
Why am I there?
Why am I not here?

I will try to fit in.
Return to my group of youth,
Look to find it and see it gone,
Remnants scattered everywhere I can see.

I will look for open arms,
That closed for me a long time ago.
And once I am alone again,
Which way will my mind go?

Wandering through mixed messages,
Solace will be found,
Buried,
In greying memories of me there,
Until they become memories of me here.

And then I will repeat my cycle,
My human cycle of dissatisfaction.

For what you miss there,
You will miss here.

You give soulmate a new meaning.
Love and care and companionship,
But in a friendly way.

Someone who will hold me,
While I cry on their shoulder,
And pat my back,
And lay their hand gently on my neck,
To let me know they’re there.

Someone who will laugh with me,
Who will run,
And leap,
And fly across the sun kissed sky with me.
Ignoring any responsibility.
We’ll land so far away,
In an old weather-worn bay.
We’ll dance around the creaky boards,
And scream louder than the silence,
Our voices as high as our bounds.
And then we’ll leap again,
To a place long forgotten.
Where the vines have grown over,
And alive is the dirt under.
And we'll play in the grass,
And rejoice in the sun,
And bask in the starlight,
And we'll know everything is alright.
We'll be sure everything is alright.
And then we'll lay under the moon,
And we'll talk without words,
And the wind will whisper,
Its alright.

The night is here.
But in some way we are not.
It's almost as if sometimes,
Just sometimes,
We begin to feel as though maybe we aren't viewing the same stars,
That they are too infinite.

And though thy are in thought,
You still avoid the thoughts,
Of how small you are in this vast
universe.
That maybe you and I are not seeing
the same stars.
That perspective is all and everything.
That no that beautiful blue star you
see,
So brightly among the millions of others,
Only seems to catch my eye for a moment.
A fleeting glimpse of what would be,
Could be,
Can be,
Won't be.
Yet still dreamers dream,
Thinkers think,
And sleepers sleep.

Because all in all,
Not everything will have some deeper meaning,
Some great devotion,
Some unknown message that is screaming itself from the rooftops 
and mountains.

That maybe a poem is just that,
A string of words with seemingly poetic rhythm.

So as time continues moving,
And 3D creatures in a 4D world continue breathing.
May we all continue counting stars that are in the past.
And continue breathing the air that's been with us for centuries.
And continue writing meaningful poetry.

You told me
"You could do better."
But all I could think of was
"Why would I?"

A poem depicting the journey of depression from the walking the paths of hell to realizing that there is hope.

Walking the paths of hell,
in darkness of clouded thoughts,
do I see the tunnel of despair,
leading the way of my life.

Running towards the lure of suicide,
I see the challenging option to cease,
the agony of my mind which controls
ones life.

Loneliness fills the suffering soul,
creating patterns of worthlessness
and negativity.
The soul is ruined by such mindful trauma.

As I scrape through the emotional dullness,
the mental agony and physical exhaustion,
Unknown to me, strength is being created
from love I cant accept from family and friends.

Each day that comes by, I find the fight,
the energy to scrape by.
Little by little, the pain, the suffering
exits the mind, the soul and body.

A long journey to be had, a tiring one
but as the days go by, the mind is refreshed
with armour to tackle the intrusion of the
dreadful desires.

Many mountains to be climbed and gorges
to cross.
Paths to navigate but baby steps by baby steps
one must go and tip toe by tip toe, I will recover

the darkness never frightens her
for she had traveled to hell and back
witnessed every sin
that people dread.