When the negativity
feels
more like a disease.
When the anxious feeling
grows nasty
like an untaught being.
I'm a wrestler.
I'm a fighter.
I'm a master warrior.
This wooden block
can be chopped.
This chain
is unhooked.
I do
what's unique.
So don't
ever
try to stop me
again.

Motivation,
reserved.
Deserving a day to rest and of peace,
thats what I heard.
Some secret little fairy
telling me to do something for only I.
Off to my cozy soft bed
is where I lie.
Nothing,
to the world,
and all who mess with my garden,
is how I reply.
Today,
not going to give
physical use of me another try.
As I lay down,
and my blood flows like a river,
my muscles become sweet like cake,
bones like trees.
I am in control,
I can fly.
Do anything that has been told to me
No.
If that is the answer,
then who would ever put on a show?
While tired and used?
I will not be abused.
So today,
it is about the literature and
the sun.
Who would ever believe
that doing nothing
is absolute
fun.

The panic attacks
pass away.
Reaching their time to
resign.
From the one with
the frustration,
all I can think is,
it's not the time.
Not now can I
fulfill what I should have started
at 17.
The glorious age
where nothing bad of the sort
matters.
Every tough achievement
is sacred.
The stars break out,
we become employed,
this was the age,
I wish I had enjoyed.
To have opened my eyes
to bigger and better,
no 17 year old
is a forgotten and removed
feather.
17 again,
why would I ever go back?
To be the big girl?
To be unemployed?
Wasted 16 on the achievements.
Now I'm 19 and the clock ticks.
Bigger hand moving faster
than ever,
just want to be covered in
plaster and bricks.
To be still,
like I stayed,
at 17.
Now I live with
panic attacks,
over the money making process,
that should of been started,
at 17.
What a great age.

So the incident,
intimidates and consoles.
Will never beat the water
that comes from nowhere
and rolls.

For the mind can only focus
on who will come next.
Not the jealous humans
to say and rant,
but the wave to wash over,
we wake up,
and we pant.

Refusing to care about others
rude needs.
See the ocean,
this is what Poseidon
really has to offer
and what he feeds.
Giving the mind a chance
to break
free.

Stress has its place,
but the ocean is where we
say to the disruptive stress,
"You're not for me."

Believe me when I say this,
so hard to be heard.
When shaking
and eyes wandering the room,
don't have to say a word.
Who would ever listen to
and individual
awkward as can be?
This is where depression has its place.
Will you give some chances to me?
No.
Okay.
I get it.
Don't think I don't care.
In your narrow minds your thinking
don't take her seriously.
Newsflash
you're not being fair.
Will you just listen to my point of view?
You may learn something,
so will you count my words as true?
No.
Okay.
Just add your two cents.
Do not think I am not over it.
Yes we are all troubled
in our own creative way.
Making more excuses
to get attention and to not
watch what we say.
Forgetting true words,
searching for hands to hold
and free candy.
I'm remembering my behavior at its worst
searching for alternatives to use
and better people to have in my life.
You're not trustworthy?
No.
Okay.
This is why I let you go.
Every time I try to get you to listen
it's a no.
Sorry, you're just too faux.
I have a stronger mind and a truer mind, you know.
Now get out of my life,
leave,
Go.

Almost feels as if I have nobody.
As a bird not wanting eggs,
or a fish not wanting the worm.
So many accusations
of what I've said or done.
I never did.
So much to scare me away.
I let them go,
then I look around and I am severely punished.
At the sight of the stars finding one another using their glittering light
in the great big sky.
Watching the snowflakes fall onto their perfect banks.
This has been the story of my whole life.
The girl you always see alone.
Is it so much to sacrifice?
There is no right or wrong
to the answer of finding connection.
So to feel I have no connections,
no people, no friendships.
I hate myself
and I just want to throw a rock and shatter
the glass of my bedroom window
where I lay
alone.
The shattered glass on the wood floor
is what my heart looks like
when I'm watching people as
bears in the pack,
smiling like children with lollipops,
and bees in the hive they fit in.
Watching,
but wanting to get there.

Don't be shy,
just go fly over,
to the pink flower that does nothing to you.
For you, provide the pollen and sweet perfume.
Hummingbird, it's just a photograph being taken.
How could I ever hurt you?
Just to stare out the big window
to watch you at the rosebush.
Your pointy scrawny beak,
big, yellow eyes ,
show how aware you are to your potentially dangerous surrounding.
Olive green feathers,
and your small, petite physique.
Display your confidence.
Now I'll just take a photo now
because representation of nature
is what you show and deserve.
You are beautiful, Hummingbird.