Trying to be optimistic,
Its getting me nowhere,
I'm a dark poet,
Always have been,

So now,
I'll let the creativity flow,
And shoot bullets from,
This pen,

Because I can't remember the good times,
That was way back when,
Oh how I'd love to go back.

Here's to the teens,

The teens who are still smiling,
After being broken uncountable times.

The ones that are still waking up everyday despite the reasons they should not.
So many reasons.

The teens that ignore the suicidal mind inside their head that outlines the engravings in their wrists that spell his name.
To be used for the short ammount of feeling that she loves.
Because in reality.
Most of you don't even feel anymore.

Here's to the teens that are still hanging on,
Waiting.
Waiting for something, or someone to come stop the emptiness.

Here's to the teens that have given up on society.
And are living in their daydream.

Its probably better for us, anyways.

All of us,

Hurt, or not.

Society is gonna catch us all,
Like fishing.

Society's the bait.
Were the fish.
And this world,
Is the fisherman.

So here's to the teens,
The teens who are still breathing,
The ones that are learning to live in a daydream.

Because its safe, and its well,

Happy.

In our little daydream.

Ever since I was a little girl, I saw things no one saw.
I always looked at the world with awe.
I saw the beauty in people who weren't loved,
In every ******, outcast, and victim.
I was isolated from the world,
For I was merely a girl.
While girls liked dolls and wanted to be Daphane from ****** doo,
I wanted to be Velma and do what all the boys wanted to do.
I robe my bike around my yard,
Even though I would fall on the rocks and hit the pavement really hard.
I had little friends,
I was weird to no end.
I tried to be normal,
I tried to catch up to the people.
However, they didn't see me,
I would just be left all lonely.
I hated elementary,
They only reminded me of being lonely.
I wanted to leave,
I wanted to be free.
I remember that wish as I hung out at the swings,
How I wished that I had wings.
I wanted escape the oppression of my school and home,
I wanted a real friends and I hoped.
Boys were always first.
At home, it was not different, they were the worst.
My older sister said that I had everything that I wanted,
That I was a spoiled brat and unwanted.
My older brother would push me and grab me by the arm,
Saying that I was in the way, causing even more harm.
My mom sided with them,
She only didn't want to get in trouble from HIM.
My dad,
The core of troubles, the only one I can't stand.
Always putting boys first,
Teaching us girls that our job was to cater to them and worst.
We had no say,
We had to do everything he wants in order to stay.
I found no beauty in the family,
It was rotten to the core, it was greedy.
I was hoping that they would see the things that I see,
Stop the nightmares from my closet from coming after me.
I wished they stopped arguing,
I wished they were a real family.
I had no escape,
I didn't even have my own dreams to escape.
I was haunted by nightmares and arguments,
I wanted them all to end.
I would watch a monster from my closet **** everyone near me,
Coming after me.
No one listened,
I was mistaken.
I grew older and eventually stopped pretending,
I shut myself in my walls and shielding.
In the 3rd grade, I stopped wearing pink,
I stopped listening.
I hid behind a frown,
I stopped chasing after the ones who weren't around.
I became an adult when I was young,
I didn't even have a childhood to be proud of.
I couldn't stop seeing beauty,
But I refused to be a victim to their cruelty.
I was an empty shell of a innocent girl,
A young soul who saw the beauty in the world.
I had kept this charade for a couple of years,
Then my wall started to get cracks and tears.
I remember people who saw me,
I remember the ones who became my friends and, later, family.
They finally came,
They finally saw me for who I am and didn't want me to change.
My walls took heavy fire,
It was weakening more than I had desired.
I was scared,
What if they didn't really care?
We went on to high school,
Still friends from middle school.
Then he came into my life,
Putting an end to my shell to hide.
My love came and pulled me out of my shell,
Promising freedom from this hell.
I couldn't believe it,
I didn't think that I was getting what I wished.
My angel with black and red wings,
He's finally come to save me.
They came to save me,
My friends and my real family.

They see all the good
    They're torn towards all the bad
             They know what's coming
   But they never look back
          To all they could have had
     They want their justice
              Yet, they leave it to the devil
        Dressed all in black
              With wilted roses
   Tattooed across their backs
           They've fallen,
    Deceived, tortured and abandoned
         Their holy calling
  There's a war raging between
            Their moral stance
       Their inner desires
                And their loyalty
         They never leave life to chance
  These Angels in black
          With wilted roses
       Tattooed across their backs,
Daggers, swords and knives
          Have red stained faces
     And hold the fate
             Of all our lives
       They can feel the shame
    Of this deadly game they play
          Yet, these Angels in black
With wilted roses
        Tattooed across their backs,
    Sacrifice everything for our souls
            Yet, a soul
   Is *all they truly lack

Do you ask why the angel has fallen?
What is it the mermaids and sirens sing their song for?
Are jewels and princesses all the dragon keeps?
Who banished the troll beneath the bridge?
Do you demand an answer of your lord;
Why preach forgiveness in written word even while your children give voice to harsh judgements and incivility?

Where have all the faeries gone?
Who tends to their forests now?
Did the angels cry out as they were caste from heaven?
Do their wounded wings bleed?

Again,
Do you ask why the angel has fallen?

Or do you just follow the path your shepherd cut content with the fable he wrote, with your certain knowledge that all is right with the world.

In New York there lives a man,
Who has everything.
The penthouse suite and Lamborghini.
The millions upon millions of dollars.
Enough to save the man in Syria
Starving every night as war wrecks his country.
In the twenty-four hours the day has,
One man shows compassion;
Saves the life of one who would have taken his.
The other shuts the door on the ones who love him,
Pours another drink of whiskey and ignores them.
Every day has twenty-four graciously alotted hours,
Meant for us to attempt to change the things we see.
Some people misuse it, others abuse it.
Still all the same those twenty-four hours should be used for change.

There's a woman, broken and beaten,
On the streets of Madrid alone.
She cries every night over the pain
Of the memories of her family.
Of the man she thought she knew.
Across the world in Tokyo is a girl,
She cries for the same thing,
A father forgotten in the mess.
Who will save them when they come
Down on their knees and their worlds
Are crashing in?
Every day has twenty-four graciously alotted hours,
Meant for us to attempt to change the things we see.
Some people misuse it, others abuse it.
Still all the same those twenty-four hours should be used for change.