How does she make me feel?
Let's start with alive. She makes life seem worth living.
She makes me smile.
Nobody can make me smile like this girl.
When my phone lights up, so do my eyes.
Oh, and my heart.
It skips that beat, the one that reminds me I'm alive.
She makes me giggle.
I don't giggle.
It's her. She changed me.
It's almost as if she takes away the sadness,
even if it's only temporary.
She helps.
She's all I want, and she makes me feel desperate,
because I long to only see her smile,
just as much as I long to feel her lips upon mine.
She makes me feel okay.
That's all I've ever wanted,
To feel okay.
So there you go.
That's how she makes me feel.

You are not a gold coin.
You see, a gold coin is liked by everyone
but, not everyone is going to like you.
Even those that smile in your pretty face
will sometimes talk crap like it’s their place.
But Darling, never let this get in the way.
Not everyone is ready to hear the things you need to say.
Not everyone will capture the love you spread.
Who cares if they like you or not.
Who cares if they are nice or not.
Everyone is at their own evolutionary path
and if you want to do anything meaningful in life
your job isn’t to judge other’s path.
Your only job is to be YOU.
Your only job is to spread love and light
by speaking your truth.

I woke up confused.
I asked: what happened?
I’m broken and bruised.
Silently and violently, I was attacked.

I’m still curious to know what really happened.

The attack tears through my mind.
I’m separated from the world.
My mind was stolen.
As usual, I’m exposed to horrible migraines.

Oh! My God, it’s another seizure.

It’s one of many since childhood.
Oh! you inevitable silent attacker.
We’ve walked together since childhood.
You’ve got the nerve to even attack me at home.

I still can’t get used to our long-term one sided relationship.
Every epileptic seizure still hurt like the first time.

https://www.facebook.com/EpilepsyandCpfriends/

It's my life,
It's not an outcome of anyone's slavery.
And that's enough to tell the world that..
I'll LIVE my life at my own expenses,
Why to dwell on other's way?
I'll LIVE it with my own decisions,
Why to listen what other's say?
My life is my own Kingdom,
And in this Kingdom..
I'm the Queen of my own self.

Maybe I wish I wasn't wrong so often.
Especially when I feel a lot like I'm right.

When I'm with my friends,
It's easy to tell what they do,
And why.

With people I'm getting to know,
I notice things most people don't,
Although sometimes I presume people do.

It's weird that I can do all that,
But I can't even tell if you like me or not.

And now I feel stupid,
Because you don't quite feel the same.

Be happy,
My friends say.
It's not like he hates you.

And I know that.
We're friends,
And I know you.

But that doesn't mean
I enjoy being wrong.

And maybe it's hard to admit it sometimes,
When you're wrong it just doesn't feel right.
But sometimes you are,
And you have to admit it.

Even if you hate being wrong.

The boxes
which keep my blood clean
are stacked as tall as I,
a monument
in the spare room
to past battles.
Too many words,
too many thoughts
******* in the
hand-to-hand combat
with mortality.

No more.

What life I have
will not be defined
by an indeterminate end.

I live to write poems;
I will no longer die in them.

When we met, love Obnubilated me.
I became bananas about you.
I wanted to be luculent.
Just to be Pauciliquent.
I however felt like a blatherskite.
You probably thought I was a glaikit.

Did I sound like a meacock instead?
If so, it’s due to kakorrhaphiophobia.
I might have operose my feelings.
Did it seem like I wanna mamaguy you?
You behaved like a frondeur.

Your callipygian body looked extramundane.
Your hair looked ulitichous.
Did you feel like I lusted your Callipygian shape?
I foresaw a love that won’t flatline.
If it does, it will be eucatastrophe.

Now we’re together, I’m disenthrall from Misogamy.
You’re a deipnosophist and a mixologist.
I’m edcious.
To keep you happy, I share a boffola.
To me, love felt like a Humdudgeon.